Stronghold
by slashbean
Summary: Warning: Mal/Simon slash, NC-17 for sex. Simon has always been skittish when they're one-on-one, and Mal is beginning to understand why. They're breaking down some strongholds of the past.  Posted on lj forever ago
1. No More Running

**No More Running**

No more running. That's what the Captain had said to them all just before Miranda. It was a good pep talk, and Simon had been subjected to a lot of pep talks in his life. It wasn't so much that he was running from his past as he was blatantly ignoring it. Or at the very least manifesting his firm denial of it under the guise of 'not repeating past mistakes.' He'd taken the words to heart. He'd stopped running from Kaylee. She was a kind soul and deserved a chance. At the time he figured it was his best hope for happiness because he never wanted to be with a man again. Men. So much he felt. So much he wanted. So much innocence … lost.

Simon watched Mal from across the cargo bay. He was talking to Inara who was probably trying to argue another half day onto their stay here so she could work. Mal spoke diplomatically, all the while helping Zoë load up the mule for a job. It was their third mule since he'd come aboard Serenity, the first two having met untimely ends during one job or another. Simon was pretty sure that Serenity was the only machine Mal would run into the ground. Everything else seemed expendable.

River came down the stairs, nudging him as she went by, making sure to step on his toes with her boots. Simon had put up a fuss about her going barefoot on jobs, and Mal had backed him up on the notion, so it was her small revenge. She gave him that knowing smile that told him she knew what he was thinking and it wasn't a bad idea. Simon wished he understood his own thoughts as clearly as she did.

No more running.

Simon had always been the decisive type. It was a good quality for a trauma surgeon, to look at a problem, decide on a solution and act quickly. Any delay usually cost someone a life. Even in less important decisions, he was quick and decisive. As soon as he started hesitating and pondering, he ended up dancing around for years, delaying a decision until it became obsolete. But not today.

No more running.

Simon strode purposefully to the side of the mule as Mal climbed on board.

"Something you need, doctor?" Mal asked, noticing his approach.

"I was wondering if you would like to get a drink … with me… later."

Mal looked at him quizzically, caught off guard as much by the timing as the invitation itself.

"You mean like a date?" Jayne mocked.

Simon folded his hands behind his back and waited patiently for an answer. He was not a man easily deterred and he had decided. The past would not keep him from enjoying the present. No more running.

Kaylee's jaw dropped unabashedly and Inara's stayed shut by sheer force of will, though the surprise was written all over her face. River just smiled knowingly and Simon remained dead serious, waiting for his answer. Mal's mouth flapped uncertainly as he surveyed the group, wondering if this was some elaborate joke. Finally he shrugged in a 'what the hell' kind of way.

"Sure Doc… Simon," he said with a nod, but no smile, as if they were agreeing to a business meeting. Now Jayne's jaw dropped and Zoë's went a little slack.

"Tonight?" Mal continued.

Simon nodded, suppressing a smile.

#

The job did not go nearly as smoothly as it should have. They came back three hours late, and one mule short. Zoë had a through-and-through on her right side and Jayne carried her slung over one shoulder so that he could still hold his gun with his free hand. They ran for Zoë's sake, because the pursuers had long since given up.

Simon glanced over River and the others as they ran to the Infirmary, but Zoë was the only one with obvious wounds. Jayne laid her on the bed, keeping pressure on her wound as he did. Mal reached for the adrenaline without Simon even having to ask. He appreciated their nursing, then pulled on his surgical apron and set to work. After the first ten minutes, Simon found his rhythm and dismissed Jayne so he could change out of his blood-soaked shirt.

"Do you have work to finish?"

Mal shook his head and kept soaking up the blood so Simon could see where he was sewing. If Simon didn't know better, he'd have thought a prayer was falling from Mal's lips. He couldn't help smiling to himself, but he kept working.

"You had to ask me out with everyone watching," Mal finally blurted out.

Simon afforded him a brief glance and laughed in surprise. "You would rather I sneak into your bunk in the middle of the night and ask then?"

"Actually yes. How am I supposed to enforce a policy on shipboard romances –"

"Were you romanced?" Simon teased, raising a sarcastic brow. Mal glowered at him. Simon motioned for a pair of forceps and Mal handed them over.

"As ship's doctor, I suppose I should be the one to tell you. Your policy on shipboard romance died violently at the hands of your crew many years ago. If you're still having hallucinations, I could prescribe an anti-psychotic –"

"There's a difference between people figuring about what goes on behind closed doors and public display."

"Fine," Simon said smoothly. "I won't seduce you in the common areas."

"Fine," Mal agreed sharply.

Simon concentrated on Zoë. Clamp. Suture. He'd nearly stopped the bleeding, which was good. No one on Serenity had a compatible blood type for Zoë. Not since Wash…

"You didn't seduce me," Mal stated matter-of-factly.

"I can't have this conversation now," Simon interrupted. "Help me, or leave."

Mal fell silent, but he didn't leave.

#

It took ten hours before Simon declared himself as done as he could be under the circumstances. He always hated frontier medicine for that. Too tired to move, he sat on the countertop that they all-too-often used as a second bed, and leaned against the wall. At least Zoe was stable. Mal had disappeared over an hour ago to make his nightly round of the ship and the audience from the crew lounge had disappeared as well compelled by hunger and exhaustion.

Simon was surprised to hear Mal's soft boot steps as he came down the stairs again. He entered the Infirmary with a plate of cold pasta and offered it to Simon. Simon was almost too weary to accept it, but his stomach growled and his mouth watered. That was another caveat of frontier medicine – you could not rotate out of a long surgery.

Mal didn't say anything at first. He just leaned on the counter next to Simon and watched Zoë sleep. The food tasted good, but starvation tended to have that effect on protein flavor.

"So did you have some place in mind for this drink?" Mal asked casually, as if they were fixing to leave in a few minutes. "I imagine all the fancy places in your element would be closed by now."

"I was actually thinking some place more in your element," Simon answered, his mind wandering past their foiled plans.

"I ain't got an element," Mal said flatly. "Just some places I tolerate more than other. I imagine those places are open 24/7."

"That's not what I meant," Simon said quickly, then caught himself. A very pregnant silence followed and finally Mal stopped looking at Zoë and set his eyes squarely on Simon.

"What did you mean?"

Simon sighed again, his brain almost too tired to think. But the location he'd planned was so peaceful, he didn't mind imagining it. "There's a protected forest about two miles from here. There are wild berries and an idling stream. Occasionally the trees open and there's a clearing with a fire pit that's technically illegal, but no one cares. It's far from civilization, but the land isn't dead… "

Mal stared, open mouthed, clearly seeing the place in his head. He tried futily to swallow his sentimentalism. "And what makes you think this is my element?"

"Are you telling me that's not a tear in your eye?" Simon teased, nudging Mal's shoulder with his knee.

Mal wiped his face self-consciously, but it was dry. "What do you imagine us doing … so far from civilization?"

Simon smiled at how perfect his plan had been. He got up, rooted through a bag of supplies he'd picked up earlier, found what he was looking for and tossed it to Mal. Mal caught the bag of marshmallows easily, and just stared, awestruck.

"I thought we'd find some sticks to skewer these with and try not to char them over a fire. Maybe we could just look up and you could point the stars out to me. I never bothered to learn the view from any world besides Osiris. I never thought I'd leave it."

"How do you reckon I know the view?" He was still holding the marshmallows, looking at them like one would a tattered picture rescued from a fire.

Simon leaned against the counter and watched. "Three jobs ago, when you practically gave yourself alcohol poisoning –"

"It was a good take!"

"I remember. You spent half your cut buying alcohol, and the other half buying medicine for your hangover."

"I wasn't that drunk," Mal countered, defensively.

"So you remember pointing out all of the stars to me?"

"I –" Mal paused, his brow crinkling in confusion. "Wait, you came to get me? I thought Jayne carried me back. When were you and I outside?"

"We weren't," Simon answered. "You were lying on that bed," he pointed to where Zoë now lay; "pointing to those lights," he redirected his finger to the ceiling. "And telling me that Beaumonde was in the wrong part of the sky."

Mal laughed at himself, rubbing his jaw reflectively. "And from this you think I'm an astronomer?"

Simon shrugged and took the marshmallows away from Mal. "It was just an idea. There aren't many worlds with protected forests on them …"

Abruptly, Mal stood and walked out of the Infirmary. "Well, come on then."

"What?"

"We still have four hours 'til sunrise. Come on."

#

Three hours later, they were laying side-by-side on a blanket Simon had brought, shivering in dew-covered jackets, stomachs aching from too many marshmallows. Mal had burned his hand at one point and it was starting to blister. Simon tended to it with his doctorly efficiency, dipping a handkerchief in the nearby stream and wrapping Mal's hand. He didn't bother suggesting that they go back to Serenity to get it treated properly, because Mal would've said no anyway. It wasn't his gun hand.

The moon illuminated clouds in a mystical blue, but otherwise the sky was covered, and only a few stars had managed to peek through. It didn't matter. They both lay on the blanket, looking up at the sky, listening to the sounds of crickets and tree frogs, and shivering with each rustle of wind. They'd been talking for hours, grazing across conversation topics lazily. Simon bent one arm to pillow his head, and used the other to point out the occasional bat flying past. The twelve inches of space between him and Mal was comfortable, not electric. Not awkward either.

For a moment, Simon just stared at Mal as he talked about some bar fight or another. He'd been Mal's doctor for a few years now, and had ministered to dozens of wounds on the man. But he realized now that Mal had only ever touched him with a closed fist. They didn't even shake hands when Simon had first come on board. Just a few punches over the past few years – honest brawls, but still. Was this one of the mistakes he'd made before? Was there a pattern?

No. This was different. This time… Mal wasn't like that. Mal had carried River out of Maidenhead and brought them back to Serenity. He was different.

Simon flushed when Mal caught him staring. Mal reached out and touched his face, caressing the temple he'd blackened half a dozen times. Mal smiled gently, but Simon turned away to look for stars again. He was grateful when Mal retracted his hand and tucked it under his head.

"Look!" Simon said, craning his head toward the horizon. "There's one! Star light, star bright –"

"That's a planet," Mal interrupted dourly. "Stars ain't that bright."

"Which one is it? Do you know?"

Mal looked at the sky, then at his bandaged hand and started pealing off the handkerchief. "That's Shadow."

"Do you really know or are you mad at me?"

Mal shook his head, still focused on his burnt hand. "Ain't mad."

Simon looked from Shadow to Mal and mentally ran through what he knew about the place. It was a black rock, destroyed by the Alliance some time during the war. Mal would probably be tetchy about it. Deciding he had no other option than to take Mal's word, Simon relaxed his view and looked up again.

"I knew you'd know."

They both let the silence hover a moment, then Mal craned his neck to consider Shadow again. Then he whispered in a voice so low, Simon wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it. "I know Shadow in any sky. It's where I'm from."

"Oh," Simon exclaimed softly, looking at Mal's face, connecting for the first time the history of the planet to Mal. "Oh," he said again, letting it drop. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if it were his world that went black. He was surprised Mal told him at all.

The moon disappeared, and only their fading fire cast light on the men. Mal kept poking at his hand and finally Simon couldn't take it. He reached over and took Mal's injured hand in his, sternly swatting away the other.

"Stop picking at it."

Their eyes met in a brief forever, and their hands stayed clasped as they both looked away, to the trees, the clouds, anything. New, but still comfortable – they lay side-by-side, connected by the hand. Their conversation idled briefly, coming and going with a lolling rhythm. Their hands didn't break until the sun started to peak. Not letting words destroy the moment, they both sat up, arms resting on folded knees, and watched the sun rise, each man lost in his own world. It was a new day for Simon. One free of the past, and with a pretty good view of the future. He watched as the sun turned the clouds crimson and made the water shine gold. Like the shield on Serenity, he thought. He could stay here forever.

"Simon," Mal whispered, not taking his eyes off the sunrise.

"Yes, Mal?"

"This is my element."

#


	2. Stronghold

**Stronghold**

Simon had always been slow on the uptake. That was just his way. After watching the way he and Kaylee danced around each other for a year, Mal didn't think anything of it when Simon shied away from his touch. Mal didn't mind. He had waited three years for the man to notice him at all, and he wasn't going to push, lest he scare his treasure away.

They strolled through town, fingers lightly intertwined. It was Mal who had more trouble with this than Simon. Mal had never been keen on public displays of affection, but he took what he could get. Simon was skittish one-on-one. Mal assumed it was because he'd never been with a man before. He just got this nervous twitch about him - except when he was doctoring. At those times, one-on-one or not, he knew exactly how to move and where to put his hands and he was not afraid of anything. One day, Mal knew, Simon would find that all-business, commanding strength in private. He could be patient… for Simon.

They strolled past a fancy hotel and Simon stopped walking. Fancy hotels always had fancy restaurants and Simon liked that. Mal didn't like fancy restaurants, but he liked watching Simon in his element. Feeling the tug of Simon's fingers, Mal turned and wrapped his arms around the younger man, deciding he'd nibble on a little ear while Simon perused the menu. But Simon wasn't looking at the menu in the window. He was looking up at the layers of balconies extending fifteen stories high and two city blocks wide. Chuckling a little in surprise, Mal stopped nibbling and considered Simon carefully. He could almost see the wheels turning and the steam coming out of Simon's ears.

"Wanna?" he asked.

Simon bit his lip and looked at Mal, excitement and uncertainty playing across his face.

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"Promise?"

It was a plaintive whisper. Simon sounded so small and frightened, Mal nearly reconsidered. Instead he hugged Simon tight across the shoulders and kissed him softly across the jaw line until he felt the smile playing across Simon's face. He'd have to take this slow. He may even have to stop. He'd do it for Simon.

"I promise."

#

Simon wasn't the type of man you pounce - unless you really didn't know him. When they got to the hotel room, Simon went immediately to exploring the amenities. They'd been to enough fancy restaurants for Mal to recognize the high-class 'scouting' behavior, and he even convinced himself that it was kinda cute the way Simon sized up a place. Mal had gotten into the habit of finding the fancy details to make fun of - like napkins folded to look like ducks. So needless to say he was surprised when Simon pounced him just as he was exclaiming over soap in the shape of little grizzly bears.

Mal caught Simon in his arms, barely regaining balance before they both fell to the bathroom floor. Simon's kiss was hungry and needy, his tongue tracing Mal's lips, coaxing them open. Finding his feet, Mal wrapped Simon's legs around his waist and carried him into the main room. He could feel Simon kicking off his shoes behind him, which also had the very pleasant side effect of grinding his groin against Mal's.

Mal broke the kiss to groan and gasp for air. Simon's legs unlaced and his tip-toes touched the floor. His hands cupped Mal's chin, leading him toward the bed like a carrot before a horse. Yesu, this had been so worth waiting for!

Moaning again as Simon pushed him onto the bed, Mal watched under hooded lids as Simon unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off his shoulders, and kissed along his collar bone. Simon's hands slid softly over Mal's bare chest. Mal had been waiting so long for this. He shuddered … and nearly sobbed.

"Mal?" Startled by the shudder, Simon pulled back, his eyes flashing with concern.

"So good, Simon," Mal panted. "Please don't stop."

Simon looked doubtful, so Mal reached out for his face and pulled him into a kiss again. He felt Simon smile and sigh, and pulled gently so they could both lay on the bed. Simon broke away again.

"What is it?" Mal asked, propping himself on his elbows to look at Simon.

"No shoes on the bed," Simon said seriously, scooting back so he could tug off Mal's boots. Mal watched Simon move, trying to discern the meaning. Simon could be finicky about keeping things clean, but he might just be stalling. Wo de ma, this pace was gonna be hard - difficult.

Simon slowly removed Mal's boots and his socks, then stroked the soft skin of his instep until he squirmed.

"Oh, you're playing dirty," Mal challenged, sitting up quickly, and trapping Simon by wrapping his legs around Simon's knees, bracing them both at the end of the bed. Simon smiled lightly, his hands clutching Mal's shoulders for balance. They kissed lightly, then Mal ran his fingers up Simon's sides, triggering that ticklish spot just under the rib cage.

Simon dissolved into laughter and doubled over, trying to force Mal backwards on the bed.

"Oh no," Mal countered, pushing Simon back to standing. "No shirt, no shoes, else there's no service."

"Sounds fair," Simon grinned, languidly unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the top.

Eagerly, Mal pulled the hem of the shirt out of Simon's pants and started working the buttons from the bottom. "Let me help you with that."

He was glad when Simon didn't protest. Simon shrugged out of his shirt with the same graceful slowness as he did everything else, and then he removed his belt. When Mal reached for the buttons of his trousers, Simon swatted his hands away, then undid Mal's belt as well.

"No belts," Simon whispered.

"Not this time," Mal teased.

Simon's jaw tensed and he swallowed sharply, his hands freezing over Mal's buckle. Quickly, Mal removed his belt and tossed it aside.

"No belts, Simon," he reassured quickly. "It was a joke."

"Yeah, I ..." Simon stammered, flushing slightly, kneeling on the bed next to Mal.

"C'mere," Mal chuckled, sitting up quickly, pulling Simon into a bear hug, and tickling his sides again. Simon's laughter permeated the room with mirth as tangible as that sweet cologne he liked to wear. He looked amazing – shirtless, shoeless, beltless, hair all askew, fancy dress pants hanging low on his hips. Wriggling out of Mal's embrace, Simon rolled off the side of the bed, staying on the balls of his feet, in full tickle attack mode. Mal only had three ticklish spots - all were hard to get to and Simon knew every one. Getting onto his hands and knees, Mal crawled to the edge of the bed and swiped at the preying Simon. Simon let himself be hooked, slid under Mal, and latched onto that first ticklish spot on the inside of his elbow. Laughing and rolling, Mal managed to get Simon out from under him, but now the younger man was on his back, heading for the ear.

Ai ya! Mal squeaked in surprise as Simon plunged his tongue into Mal's ear. Mal felt his cock jump at the sensation and pulled Simon off before he came in his pants. Simon laughed at the squeak, seemingly unaware of the side effects further south, and struggled for a new access. Happily playful, Mal wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Simon, immobilizing the man, and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Mal," Simon squealed his name as he struggled against the immobilizing embrace. "Mal, let me go."

"I don't think so," Mal teased, nipping and biting against Simon's neck and shoulder. Simon grunted and squirmed. Mal moaned and tipped his head back at the pressure against his body, then slipped a hand across the waistband of Simon's pants.

"Please stop," Simon whispered suddenly, his voice small and pleading, his body going rigid and then limp. "Please."

Mal's heart nearly stopped at the desperation, and he immediately released Simon and pulled back. Simon didn't move. He just laid there like a defeated little lump of a person. There was something deep there. Some deep-seated pain Mal had never suspected.

"Simon?" he called, tentatively touching the younger man's shoulder.

Simon groaned and buried his face in the pillow, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

"I'm sorry," Simon gushed. "I'm sorry, I just... I'm sorry. I won't ... just ... I need a minute."

"Take your time," Mal soothed softly, stroking Simon's back. "Did I squeeze ya too hard?"

"No, it's nothing ... I was having fun, I just ..."

A few seconds later, Simon pulled himself to kneeling, shook the strain off his face, and turned back to Mal.

"Where were we?" Simon asked coyly. He looked suddenly weary, and smiled only weakly, reaching behind Mal's knee to tickle him again.

"Simon, what the hell just happened?" Mal asked sternly, ignoring Simon's playful invitation.

"I'm – sorry."

"I ain't mad, Simon. I don't want an apology, I want to know what I did."

"I – " Simon stuttered, then choked, his eyes shifting, his fingers tracing patterns on the bedspread. Mal brought Simon's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. Simon blinked slowly and sighed, his jaw setting, his eyes smoldering with self-disappointment.

"Simon?"

"Dammit," Simon growled, turning his head away. The anger burned through his eyes and rippled through his muscles. Suddenly, he jumped off the bed and stormed across the room. He broke into a series of curses in English, Chinese, and then another language that Mal didn't even recognize. It was a tantrum to rival River on a bad day – or even Jayne – and Simon just kept going, pounding against the walls, beating against the curtains. Mal stayed frozen in shock until Simon yanked the alarm clock out of the wall and chucked it across the room, knocking over lamp in the process.

When he reached for the lamp, Mal grabbed his wrists, forcing Simon to fight him instead. Simon barely noticed him. His eyes were dark with pain, his mouth curled into a grimace, his hands grasping and ripping at the past.

"Simon, talk to me."

"Cao!"

"You ain't breakin' this room. It costs too gorram much," Mal grunted, grabbing at Simon's wrists to stop him. Simon shook him off, panting with exertion. He glared angrily, boring a hole right through Mal without actually seeing him. Finally he released a breath and paced the room, running his fingers through his hair.

"Tian sha de e mo!" Simon cried at the ceiling. "It's been ten gorram, gou shi years and still he wins! I can't …" His chest heaved and Simon ripped at his hair, losing steam. More than anything, he looked angry at himself. "Ta ma de. Cao," he murmured.

Mal waited out the anguish, watching, heartbroken, as Simon's head dropped in defeat. Tentatively, he came up beside Simon and touched his shoulder.

"Much as this dirty language comin' out of your pretty mouth is turning me on, my deep intuition for the human condition tells me that something else is going on here."

Simon huffed in frustration and slouched on the bed, resting his forearms on his knees, looking disgustedly at the space in front of him. "Sorry. I just … don't think I can do this."

"Okay."

"No. It's not," Simon retorted fiercely, looking squarely at Mal, blue eyes burning with self-hatred. "You've been so patient, and here I've gotten you all worked up…"

"Simon, I don't want anything from you that you ain't ready and willing to  
>give." Gently, Mal sat behind Simon on the bed, wrapping both arms and legs around Simon in a gentle hug, kissing the back of his neck.<p>

"I am willing," Simon insisted, though he gave no response to Mal's suggestive touch. "I just don't know that I can ever be ready."

Dejectedly, he leaned his head back against Mal's shoulder. He hung his hands over Mal's until Mal released him from the hug and their fingers interlaced. Simon took one of Mal's hands, kissed his palm, then released it to other mischief.

"There are days I want you so bad I can't see straight," Simon confessed. "I just … don't know what to do about it."

"I have a few ideas," Mal smiled, his hand sliding down the front of Simon's pants, surprised to find him not only soft, but completely unresponsive.

"It should be good," Simon rationalized distractedly. "I know in my head that it should. It just never has been."

"Never?" Mal pulled back in surprise.

Simon shifted, a little uncomfortable. "It only … ever … hurt."

"Even with Kaylee?"

"Stop," Simon whispered, and Mal dropped the subject like a hot potato. It was always hard for him to acknowledge that Kaylee had won Simon first. He hugged Simon again, resting his head on the younger man's shoulder, no longer interested in kissing or … well, anything. He was surprised when Simon kept talking.

"No. Women are different. There are ways… never mind… I'm just trying to separate what I know about you from him. From … I asked him to stop."

Mal struggled to keep his breathing calm, hearing the strain in Simon's voice as he spoke that last phrase.

"Simon, you asked me to stop."

"I did."

"And then I stopped."

"You did."

The pain was so tangible. Mal started running soothing strokes up Simon's torso, just trying to get him back to the present. He needed to separate himself from the man who had done this to Simon.

"What else can I do?" Mal asked.

Simon lowered his eyes submissively, and spoke so quietly, Mal almost didn't hear. "Don't trap me like that again."

"Okay," Mal agreed, making the mental note. "Sorry about that. I know I promised you'd have fun. What else?"

Simon's whole body pulsed a little in surprised. Mal loosened his grip, and Simon relaxed against him a little more. He shifted a little, started to speak, then stopped again.

"Don't let him win, Simon."

"Gou shi."

"What else?"

"Let me …" Simon choked, searching for words. "Come."

Mal had no idea what to make of a request like that, and deflected his confusion with humor. "Well, there are certain situations – say the dinner table – where it might not be appropriate, but – "

"Mal," Simon pleaded, silencing him again. "Just don't make me … don't make it hurt."

Mal captured the tear in the corner of Simon's eye with a gentle kiss and rocked him slowly. "Ok, Simon, here's the deal. I love you."

Mal paused in surprise. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but now it was on the table. Simon nodded, still listening, his muscles relaxing slightly.

"I love you," Mal repeated. "So I stop when you say stop. And you always get to come first. And I don't come 'til you tell me."

"Mal, no," Simon whispered, horror and shock flashing across his face. Mal chuckled lightly and kissed his nose.

"Ok, I may just come when I come," Mal conceded. "But you get to come whenever you want, and I'll try and make sure you go first."

"But it –"

"It won't hurt ever again."

"Promise?"

Mal nodded. "Promise. Does that sound reasonable?"

"That's ... yes," Simon agreed with a soft, relieved smile. Mal smiled back, kissed Simon softly, and laid them both back on so that they could just rest in each other's embrace. After a few minutes resting, Simon shimmied up Mal's body and sucked on Mal's earlobe. Mal groaned with pleasure.

"Something you want, Simon?" he asked, barely having the breath to speak as Simon flicked his tongue around his ear.

"I want to come."

"Damn straight," Mal smiled, capturing Simon's lips in a deep kiss. "How do you wanna come?"

"How?" Simon repeated, sucking on Mal's lower lip, siphoning out all reason and thought.

"You want my hand on your cock and my mouth on your body, or the other way  
>around?"<p>

Simon pulled back, but instead of looking frightened, he looked thoughtful - like no one had ever given him a choice before. "Which is better?"

Mal guffawed and slowly ghosted his fingers over Simon's body. "We'll try it both ways and you can tell me."

It took a few stops and starts before Mal had Simon coming the first time, spilling himself all over Mal's hand and the bedspread. It was difficult because Simon was so reluctant to let go, but once he did Simon whooped and trembled and smiled so tight tears fell out of his eyes. He was still quivering with the aftershocks when he started begging Mal to let him come again. The second time was both faster and slower – faster in that Mal did not have to convince Simon to let go; slower in that Simon trusted him enough to let him tease a lot longer. When Simon came in Mal's mouth, he screamed and howled and then he passed out.

Once he regained consciousness, Simon was giggling and gasping, trying to get enough breath in him to lap his own seed off of Mal's lips. There was something so strange about seeing a grown man giggle, but it made Mal's stomach flutter to see it.

"Definitely like the second way," Simon laughed, swatting loosely at Mal's fingers as they traced his naval.

"Better than the first?"

"That may require more experimentation," Simon teased, finally capturing Mal's lips and sucking on his tongue. "There's something –" he nipped Mal's chin; "so amazing-" kissed his eyelids; "about having your face next to mine when I come."

"But more messy," Mal joked, losing himself in another kiss.

"And I didn't pass out."

"I warned you about going twice in the same half hour."

Simon groaned and plundered his body with kisses. "But it feels so good."

"It does at that," Mal agreed.

"Again," Simon begged. "Again. Again. Again."

"Give it a rest, Simon. I know you're feeling spry, but even you need rest."

"Again," Simon giggled, sticking his tongue in Mal's ear, making him squeak. Mal laughed and pulled Simon into a loose tackle, careful not to trap him.

"I'm telling you, Simon. You need a break."

"Not me," Simon whispered, wriggling down on Mal's body, his hand reaching for the button of Mal's pants. "Your turn."

Mal laughed and groaned and did not stop Simon from moving. He'd been getting harder and harder over the last hour and he ached to come. Simon pulled the last garment free, then straddled his lap. Skin to skin. Mal nearly died and he placed Simon's hand on his aching cock.

"Come any time," Simon whispered, ghosting his fingers along the ridges, his lashes batting against Mal's cheek.

"Make me," Mal challenged, grinding his body against Simon's.

Simon lifted off and Mal whimpered at the loss. "You okay?"

"Keep going," Mal encouraged, his voice guttural and husky.

"I think this will help," Simon whispered, picking up Mal's arm, starting at the palm, then kissing his way up. Mal whimpered and moaned with pleasure, grasping control with all that was in him. Simon's tongue crept up his neck, then thrust into his ear again. Before Mal could get out that ridiculous squeak, he lost control and orgasm burst through him as he spurt white hot over his stomach. Never in his life had he come without being touched.

Simon sat back on his heels and watched Mal ride out the waves of his release. "Not what I'd intended, but effective," Simon commented when Mal finally had the strength to open his eyes. They both laughed.

"What did you intend?" Mal asked as Simon found a damp towel and started patting them clean.

"Coming together in my hand." Simon smiled wickedly. "You really want to go twice in half an hour?"

Mal growled and pulled Simon close. "You, Simon Tam, have a wicked, wicked tongue."

"Mmmm," Simon agreed. "It seems so innocuous. I bet I wouldn't get more  
>than a few looks ... if I tried it at the dinner table."<p>

Mal jerked up in surprise, making the laughter fall out of Simon's body.

"I wouldn't," Simon grinned, straddling him again and kissing down the centerline of his body.

"How come I don't trust you?"

"Because I have a wicked, wicked tongue," Simon teased. And then set out to prove it.

#

Mal never would've thought he had it in him, but Simon made him come so hard he managed to squirt his own chin. Though still an amateur, Mal recognized Simon's skill in mimicking the techniques that had just been used on him. For a brief, glorious moment, he'd been in Simon's mouth. So painfully brief. One ill-timed thrust had ruined that, though. It was mercy that brought Simon's hand back to his body, and sheer force of will that got them both coming together in Simon's hand. Mal was shaking with joy, laughter, and triumph at the end. Simon had collapsed against his chest, panting and shuddering, his cheek sticking to Mal's skin. Slowly Mal regained his sense of the room and of Simon heaving against him.

"You okay?" Mal asked.

Simon nodded, but didn't lift his head. "You were right. That was fun … a little … at the end."

"What happened in the middle? When you took me in your mouth?"

"Later," Simon panted. Mal ran a hand sympathetically through his hair.

"There's a trick to it. "

Simon nodded, lifting his eyes finally. Mal couldn't read anything in them but exhaustion. "Tell me later. Sleep now."

Simon tore away at the damp bedspread, yanked the firmly tucked sheets, and lay down gracefully. Though his legs were wobbly, Mal found a wet towel to clean them both off, knowing Simon wouldn't want to wake up sticky. Then Mal snuggled up in Simon's arms, forcing Simon to hold him instead of the other way around. It felt unnatural, and Simon didn't seem to keen on the position. But if Mal wanted Simon to take charge in the bedroom, he'd have to stop coddling him. Mal shifted, uncertainly, wondering if he should just give up the silly mission. But then Simon stroked him softly across the chest and moaned pleasantly in his ear.

"I love you, Mal."

#


	3. Hopeless Romantic

**Hopeless Romantic**

The room was pleasantly silent and dark when Mal awoke, blanketed with Simon's body, skin to skin. Mal sighed peacefully, reveling in the closeness of his lover draped over him, still sleeping. He had never woken up in Simon's arms before, though Simon's current position was probably better described as a possessive sprawl over Mal's left shoulder. Only a few times had Mal ever awoken with Simon in _his_arms – usually when they had stayed up late and talked themselves into a coma. They'd never deliberately spent the night, in that they'd never actually cuddled in bed and said good night to each other. This was new and delicious, and even though Mal desperately had to pee, he refused to move.

The air was thick with the scent of sex and Simon's cologne. Though his face was half buried in a pillow, Mal breathed deeply, trying to capture the fragrance permanently in his mind. He flexed every muscle, head-to-toe, noting just how Simon's body molded to his. He listened to the soft melody of Simon's breathing. He felt –

"Simon, are you drooling on me?"

Simon inhaled loudly, lifting his head without opening his eyes. He kissed and lapped away at the moisture on Mal's shoulder, rubbed against it with his cheek, then laid back down.

"Nope," he said tiredly.

Mal laughed at the tickle of Simon's soft hair against his skin.

"What time is it?" Simon groaned, rubbing his toes against the back of Mal's calf.

Mal turned his head and squinted at the night stand. "Don't know. Some feng le doctor yanked the clock out of the wall last night."

Simon huffed a tired laugh, and the pressure rippled right through Mal's body. He rubbed Mal's arm, then shifted slowly from laying on Mal's left shoulder to laying on the right, so that he could reach the comm handset on the night stand. He lifted up and planked his body while he shifted, so that only the longest part still dragged across Mal's backside. Much as Mal had liked Simon sleeping on him, he liked Simon moving on him better – just going about life as if Mal were his own personal mattress. When he reached his goal, Simon put his full weight on Mal again. Then he reached for the handset and pressed the button to ring the front desk.

"Yes, can you tell me what time it is?" Simon paused and listened. "Yes, thank you."

And then he hung up again, and laid his head on Mal's shoulder. Mal fidgeted beneath him, wanting him to move around again.

"So what time is it?"

"Why? Do you have a hot date somewhere?" Simon teased.

"As a matter of fact, I have a meet at 11:00."

"You have time. It's 9:45."

Mal blinked, forcing the fuzz of exhaustion from his mind, trying to coherently list all of the things that needed doing before the meet. He didn't get much farther than shower and coffee before his brain short circuited.

"Come on, Simon," he grunted tiredly. "We gotta move."

Simon rolled off of him, flopping on the other side of the bed and pulling the sheet up to his belly button. That was as far as he moved. Mal sat up and looked at him, caressing the hair away from his face.

"I'm gonna … shower."

Simon took a deep breath in, released it, and rolled onto his side. "Okay."

Mal's heart and brain twisted a little, wanting so much more from Simon than he was getting. Had he pushed Simon too hard the night before? He swallowed the thought and headed toward the shower, tripping over their discarded shoes. When he looked back to share the laugh, he was disappointed to see Simon lying just as he was before, eyes closed.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Yes?"

"When a man says 'I'm gonna shower,' there are two appropriate responses. The first is to jump up and join him. The second is to watch longingly wishing you could do the first thing."

Simon stretched lithely on the bed, grunting away the exhaustion, and finally opened his tired blue eyes.

"Fine, I'll watch."

Mal rolled his eyes.

"Mal, I'm not in the mood for a two minute hand-job."

Mal started to answer, but just closed his mouth and shut the bathroom door behind him. He and Simon were often callous toward each other because it made conversation more interesting – and honest. Mal never thought anything of it usually, but today, he worried it was his fault. Today, because of last night. He replayed it in his head as he turned on the water. Had Simon asked him to stop and he just didn't listen?

#

_(Flashback: the night before)_

Mal had agreed to coming in Simon's hand, so he wasn't expecting the man to be kissing up the length of his cock the way he was. He wasn't complaining, though. Simon had a wickedly talented tongue, and a single mission. Mal only hoped he had the control to keep up. Simon licked up one side, then exhaled softly against the moist skin. His hands glided along Mal's inner thighs light as feathers, invoking whimpers and pleas. Then, after a few tentative nips at the tip, Simon took Mal fully into his mouth, flattening his tongue. Fully. To the hilt.

Mal resisted the urge to thrust. Resisted the urge to grip Simon's hair and direct the motion. He felt the corners of Simon's lips curl into a smile, and Simon pulled back so that only the tip of Mal's cock rested on the tip of his tongue. Then he rolled his tongue around Mal like a warm, wet blanket. Keeping his tongue as curled as possible, Simon slid forward, throating Mal again. Mal shuddered, murmuring Simon's name like a prayer.

Simon laughed a little, sending vibrations straight through Mal's skin, and this time Mal could not stop himself. He bucked into Simon's mouth, causing the man to gag and dislodge. His whole body shivering with anticipation, Mal whimpered and waited for Simon to recover.

Nothing happened.

Forcing his eyes open, Mal propped himself on his elbows to see if he hadn't choked his lover. Simon was sitting back on his heels, staring dumbstruck at Mal's cock, as if it had attacked him and he didn't quite know what to do.

"Simon?"

Simon looked at him like a lost boy. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Forcing sympathy to override desire, Mal sat up and reached out for Simon's hand. "So go with the original plan."

Mercifully, Simon sat forward and placed both hands on Mal's thighs. Then, swallowing his demons, he started to move again, his hand closing around Mal's erection. He moved steadily, like a doctor, focused on the task at hand.

"You ain't coming?" Mal asked. Simon had said he intended they come together in his hand. Simon was half-hard and fading.

"Just you," Simon said quietly, furrowing his brow, his heart no longer engaged in the task at hand. Mal grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

"Don't let him win."

Simon shrugged, helplessly. "I don't … know…"

"Let me try?" Mal offered. Simon met his eye, but Mal saw only defeat. With only the smallest of nods, Simon closed his eyes and surrendered to Mal. Mal cupped his chin and pulled him into a kiss, tangling their legs until their groins touched.

"Do you want this, Simon?" Mal asked as he felt Simon harden and thrust against him. Simon used his legs to pull Mal closer. Their skin slipped and slid, covered with sweat.

"Yes," Simon answered.

"Together, in your hand?"

"Together. Just together."

Mal took Simon's hand in his, formed it into a fist, and slid it around their joint cocks. Simon smiled triumphantly at the sight, but his whole body shook. He barely had the control to move his own hand, and finally, released their cocks and gripped Mal desperately with both hands.

"Don't let him win," Mal commanded.

Simon's eyes pressed shut. "End. Make it end."

Mal took control, pressing the shaking Simon against his body, his hand moving quickly. He thought of a half a dozen things he might try to bring Simon off faster, but wasn't sure the other man trusted him enough. It wasn't a sure thing.

"We're gonna come," Mal told Simon in no uncertain terms. "On three."

Simon nodded, and his breathing calmed a little, his fingers gripping Mal's biceps hard enough to bruise.

"One." Mal's hand stroked upwards, pressing their cocks together. He slid his finger of Simon's slit, milking the pre-come over his hand.

"Two." Mal put more pressure at the base this time, leaving his little finger behind to work some mischief. Simon gasped, and captured Mal's hand at the top and then threaded his fingers underneath.

"My hand," Simon panted, the tremor of his hands adding an unexpectedly sensuous vibration. Mal nodded encouragingly and Simon took a breath to steady himself. He slowly went to the base of their cocks, shifting his fingers to accommodate their joint girth. Then swallowing thickly, he stroked up.

"Three."

_(end flashback)_

#

Mal woke up in the shower as the hot water ran cold. He couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep on his feet like that. Definitely needed some coffee. The next thing he noticed was that the hands cleaning him were not his own. At some point, Simon had climbed into the shower, taken the grizzly bear shaped soap, and began a meticulous and thorough scrubbing. Mal closed his eyes again, and concentrated on the feel of Simon's hands as he worked.

"Thought you weren't coming."

"You were using up all the hot water," Simon explained, stepping under Mal's arm so he could access the front. He shampooed Mal's hair and even put that fancy conditioner in it, all the while keeping his face dead serious and focused on the task. If Mal weren't so tired, he would be crazy-hot from the closeness. The cold water helped – or didn't, depending on the motive.

When he finished, Simon turned off the water, took Mal's hand, and they both stepped out of the shower. Immediately, Simon put a cup of warm coffee in his hands, then started patting him down with a towel. He was starting to feel like a show horse, but he didn't mind one bit. He liked Simon taking care of him. Mal sipped the coffee, moaning with pleasure because Simon had sweetened it to perfection. Simon wrapped a towel around his waist, then dried himself off and did the same.

"About last night," Mal stammered, unsure if he should even be apologizing. "Sorry if I didn't …"

"Why are you sorry?"

Mal shrugged. He really didn't know.

Simon's face softened and he stepped easily into Mal's embrace, wrapping his arms around Mal's neck, then letting them slide sensuously across his shoulders. Mal fell into the kiss hungrily, dropping his unfinished coffee into the sink, then letting his hands plunder Simon's back. Simon's fingers traced his arms, then grazed up his neck, through his wet hair. Mal pressed his body into Simon's until the younger man stepped back, eyes smoldering.

"Is that the good morning kiss you were waiting for?" Simon smiled, taking his hand.

"Better," Mal answered, suddenly relieved. "We should get back to the ship."

"Soon enough. I ordered breakfast," Simon answered coyly and walked out the door.

Mal groaned and rolled his eyes. They didn't have time for a leisurely breakfast, and it was a waste of money getting it sent to the room when they could just as easily eat on Serenity. Simon poked his head back into the bathroom and grabbed Mal's hand, forcing him to follow.

"Come on."

When Mal stepped out of the bathroom, it was like walking into a different world, and not just because Simon had made the bed and tidied the room. A silver tray sat on the room's small table and the curtains were pulled open revealing a dark, but glowing pre-dawn sky. The sliding glass door to the balcony was wide open, letting in the cool air from outside. Simon sauntered across the room and lifted the cover off of the silver tray, revealing a small tower of marshmallows. He set up the Sterno can, then lit it with a match, looking mischievously at Mal.

"Will you join me?"

Mal's feet felt like lead, weighted with the memory of their first date and another world beyond that. Finally, he started moving, walking unsteadily across the room, and watching, mesmerized, as Simon skewered two marshmallows and held it over the canned flame. He snaked his hands around Simon's waist, closed his eyes, and rested his chin on Simon's shoulder, breathing in the memory.

"Simon, what time is it really?"

"Not even six. Sunrise is in about twenty minutes."

Mal sighed and groaned, leaning more heavily on Simon, too tired to be amused by the prank. He might've said something snarky, but Simon had him wrapped around his little finger, and Simon's little finger had learned a lot of new tricks last night.

Simon finished toasting the pair of marshmallows a golden brown, then very lightly skimmed the toasted shell off with his fingers leaving the soft middle still on the skewer. He lifted his fingers to Mal's mouth, feeding him the sweet, toasted, marshmallow shell and Mal sucked his fingers clean. Simon set the remainder of the marshmallows over the flame, skimming off two more toasted shells before sucking the soft centers of the marshmallows right off the skewer. Mal swayed gently with Simon in his arms, absorbing it all. Always, from their first date, his connection to Simon was not based on physical lust, but on Simon's ability to draw out those deep, contented memories that Mal had not dared to dream since before the war.

"The sun is coming up," Simon whispered, wriggling against Mal's embrace just enough to lead him outside. The two men stepped onto the balcony and the horizon glowed lilac. Simon tipped at the waist, leaning his elbows on the railing and Mal stood next to him, their shoulder's touching. Mal reached over, rubbing his knuckles against the back of Simon's hand until Simon's fingers opened up and laced with his. They waited respectfully as the sun crossed the horizon, and then Mal led Simon back into their room.

Simon pressed his lips against Mal's, steering them toward the bed with soft kisses. Mal figured Simon's next step would involve losing the towels they still had wrapped around their waists and Mal debated. He wanted to talk plain with Simon about the night before and make sure he hadn't pushed him too hard. He wanted to make sure of Simon's motives. Part of him wanted to know what had happened to Simon that pained him so deep, but the past wasn't Mal's concern so much as the present. There were dark parts of Mal's past that Simon would never know. He wanted to be sure of Simon's motives… but then, as Simon's tongue traced the corners of his mouth, Mal felt pretty sure of his motives. Still…

"Can I ask you something?" Mal asked between kisses.

"Me first," Simon countered, his tongue reigning in, his lips leaving a wet trail across Mal's chin. Mal had to stop kissing so his brain could work well enough to process what Simon had said. What might Simon want to ask him?

"Okay."

Simon smiled, and pressed Mal's shoulders until he sat on the edge of the bed, then Simon straddled his lap, draped his arms on Mal's shoulders, and looked at him seriously. Agreement may have been a bad idea.

"Why do you get all misty-eyed whenever I break out the marshmallows?"

Mal jerked in surprise. "I don't. What – How can you say 'whenever'? We only had 'em the one other time!"

Simon calmly waited out Mal's raving denial, his sapphire eyes fixed calmly on Mal's. It was that look alone that made Mal want to tell.

"You don't have to say," Simon offered after Mal had trailed off.

"No, I'll …" Mal paused, reconsidering the out Simon had given him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Simon whispered, leaning forward, cradling Mal's face, kissing his cheeks gently. Then they rested, foreheads touching, and Simon waited for Mal to make the next move. Kiss or tell… or both.

"It was just after the war started. I was telling my momma that I volunteered for the Independents and had to ship out the next morning. I expected her to try and talk me out of it."

Mal paused, remembering the day. Before the war, he always figured that telling his momma he was leaving was the scariest thing he would ever have to do. He still hadn't decided if he had been naïve or right.

"She didn't try. Just said okay and told me to finish my chores before I left." Mal laughed at that. "Then she killed one of the bulls. I told her not to, because she'd been saving that one for a rich buyer. It was worth a pretty penny. But she did it anyway, and we grilled. The next ten hours of daylight, people were coming and going, wishing me well. Not a lot of hoop-la, or any kind of party. Just people, being honest, coming and saying their farewells. That night, when it was just her and me, she lit up the fire pit, and we roasted marshmallows, and she told me every piece of advice she thought I'd need for life off world. Not in any particular order; just whatever came to mind and whenever. She talked to me all night. Then the sun rose, I did my chores, and I left."

Mal paused, feeling his eyes mist again. This time he didn't swallow the tears, he just let one fall. Simon deserved that piece of truth. It was the last day he'd spent on Shadow before it went black. He didn't care if nothing else were restored; all he wanted was that camp fire and his momma, her sweet voice filling him with wisdom, as if she knew it were her last chance.

"Then you … first date … take me to a quiet place, feels like home and peace, and feed me marshmallows, because you think it's my element. And I wonder if you're a reader like your sister, but I know it ain't so, because it's something I don't dare think about wanting, because I can never have it back…"

Even though Simon was sitting on his lap, the thing Mal felt strongest was Simon's hand clasping his. Inhaling deeply, he shelved as much of the past as he could and focused on his present connection to the man in front of him. Their eyes locked with the strength of their trust.

"That's when I fell in love with you, you know," Mal said. "That's what…"

Simon's lips were on his face again, following the path of his tears, tracing the ache of his heart. Mal latched desperately to Simon's mouth, crushing Simon's body against his. They lay back on the bed, scooting up to the pillows so their legs could lengthen. Simon's hands grated against Mal's chest roughly, and the two finally had to break for air.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

Mal waited a few breaths, trying to phrase his question right. Words failed him. "I take it you're wanting sex."

"That is the general idea."

Mal nodded. "Don't let me push you. Like last night I shouldn't've… if you don't want-"

"Oh, I want," Simon assured, silencing Mal by removing his towel. "And don't doubt yourself. You were right. Don't let me stop."

#

Mal rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes, letting Simon plunder his body with kisses and enjoying every moment of it. If asked yesterday, Mal would've told anyone that he trusted Simon with his life, and it was true. But today, he trusted Simon with his heart – something he hadn't even realized he'd been protecting. It seemed Simon wasn't the only one breaking down strongholds of the past.

Simon hovered over Mal's body, touching only with his lips. He brushed his hand through Mal's hair, starting at the base of the neck and stroking against the grain. His tongue worked around Mal's earlobe, flicking quickly, each nip shooting lightning to Mal's groin. Mal arched off the bed, straining until their bodies touched and Simon took that at his cue to start working down.

Unable to keep his hands from moving, Mal reached out to Simon, feeling the ripple of Simon's arm muscles as they kept him suspended over Mal. Simon worked his way down Mal's neck, mixing teeth and tongue, then kept going.

Barely able to find his voice, Mal slipped his hand between Simon's mouth and his body. Then, catching Simon's lips on his finger, he began to guide.

"Kiss here," Mal breathed, not caring how desperate his voice sounded. He traced his fingers from his sternum over to his left nipple, and Simon's lips followed, latching on. The flat of his tongue – pull back – hot breath, shivering moisture. Mal shuddered with pleasure, worrying his own fingers over the puckered skin as he waited for Simon. Kiss, swirl, suck. Simon latched onto his finger again, and Mal lead him across his chest to the other nipple. He was laughing. Could not stop laughing. Next Mal lead him to his naval, then the pulse point on his neck, back to his ear, then his mouth.

Simon thrust his tongue firmly into Mal's mouth once, twice. Then he ground his erection against Mal's impatiently. Mal laughed louder.

"Something you want Simon?"

"Come," Simon panted, adding a hand to the working of his hips. Mal's thighs spread to give Simon better access, and he started stroking his hands over Simon's chest and back. Simon made a ring of his thumb and forefinger and slid slowly down the length of Mal's cock, squeezing, and pulling in all the right places. Once at the base, his other three fingers grazed lightly across Mal's balls then a little further to another sweet spot Mal hadn't even known.

Mal screeched and cried out in a sound that might have been described as a croak if not for the breathtaking pleasure that coated it. His whole body convulsed and Simon jumped back in surprise.

"What did I do?" Simon demanded, his voice low and frightened, his chest heaving.

Mirth bubbled through Mal so fully he could not speak. With a finger, he beckoned Simon closer, ringed his fingers, and mimicked the move so that Simon could feel too. Simon yelped too, nearly jumping out of Mal's hands.

"Oh, that is good."

"One for the books," Mal agreed.

With a wicked smile, Simon ducked his face close to Mal's hips, kissing the jut of his pelvic bone. "Want me to try it with my tongue?"

Mal nearly died.

Barely breathing from the pleasure of Simon's tongue on him, Mal knew he wouldn't last. He also knew, from Simon's request, that his lover was close to cracking and he did not want to delay too long. They had the rest of their lives for foreplay and Simon was starting to tremble violently. Tugging at Simon's shoulders, he coaxed the man away from his cock until they were face to face, gazing at each other with lust- darkened eyes.

"How do you want to come?" Mal offered, hoping against hope that Simon wanted to bring them off together.

"With my lips touching yours," Simon answered.

Pulling Simon on top of him, Mal pressed their lips together. Then he wrapped his legs around and pressed their bodies together. He left their hands joined and their fingers loosely interlaced so Simon could pull out if he wanted, but he didn't. He could feel the vibrations as Simon spoke into his mouth.

"Come for me."

And Mal came, gripped by pleasure, coated by Simon's own hot release. Simon collapsed on top of him, forcing the come to spread slickly across their stomachs and chests, threatening to glue them together should they let it dry.

"Shower?" Simon asked, panting from exertion, but smiling broadly.

"In a minute. What time is it?"

The sun had almost fully brightened the sky and there was still work to be done before the meet at 11. Simon shifted across him, moving on wobbly arms, and reached for the comm. This time, Mal took the handset from him. Half past eight.

They rested in contented silence for a few more minutes, Mal languidly stroking Simon's torso, not caring in the least that it was sticking to his. Not until Simon shimmied up, yanking more than a few hairs free as he went. He bit back any complaints when Simon nestled against his shoulder.

"Happy Anniversary," Simon whispered.

"Been more than a year, hasn't it?"

"Four hundred and twelve days. It's the colloquial year on –"

"Shadow," Mal finished at the same time as Simon. His breath was taken away for the millionth time that morning and he looked at Simon's hopeful eyes.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Simon stammered, dropping his chin and tugging his ear in that way he did when he had his foot in his mouth.

"You're a hopeless romantic," Mal chuckled, nipping at Simon's nose. "You know that, right?"

#


	4. Afterglow

**Afterglow**

Mal had expected their night in the hotel to be relegated to the category of 'brief fairy tale moments lighting the history of his and Simon's relationship', but he'd hoped for a little more afterglow. They weren't more than two minutes on board Serenity before it came out that Inara had been beaten senseless by an ex-client. The Guild was handling the legal side of things, but it came to Simon to minister to Inara's injuries 24/7. Mal's blood boiled, ready to find the hun dan who did it and shoot him between the eyes, but both Inara and Simon begged him off. It wasn't until River explained to him exactly what "the Guild looks after their own" meant that Mal was convinced the yu ben de ex-client had worse enemies than him. It also made Mal glad that he had never truly crossed Inara because a black mark from the Guild was apparently much more sinister than citations on a commercial license.

Their job went relatively well, until the release of a very fast (but not too bright) long horn bull. Both Jayne and Mal got scraped up a bit from that, and getting stitched was pretty much the last contact Mal had had with Simon all week. Five minutes after take-off, their employer changed the drop location, and in order to make the drop before the goods spoiled, they had to pass through twelve different Alliance checkpoints. That meant the fake ledgers needed to be reconciled to their current inventory, and at some point, certain inventory needed to be manufactured. Sleep was rare, but whenever he passed out working, he tended to wake up with a blanket over his shoulders and the scent of Simon's cologne in the room. Meals consisted of whatever snack Simon handed him as he darted through the galley on his way somewhere else.

Life was hectic and more so than normal, so Mal couldn't helped being surprised when he ran through the galley one night and saw the entire crew sitting around the table eating together. It had been awhile since they'd done that. Too long. And if that sight hadn't hooked him, then the smell of what they were eating would've. It was not only deliciously captivating, but it struck a pleasant chord in his memory as well. Mal backtracked to the table, coming to stand behind Simon, placing his hands on his shoulders. He was surprised at the tension rippling just under the surface of Simon's silky blue vest.

"Something smells fine," Mal moaned, leaning down to eat the spoon full of goulash that Simon held out for him. Simon had a way of making Mal forget anyone else was watching them. The food hit his tongue and Mal nearly wept at the savory pleasure. If he hadn't stocked the food cabinets himself, he would've sworn there were fresh vegetables in it.

"Simon found one of the Shepherd's old recipes," Kaylee explained cheerfully. "Are you joining us?"

"Not 'til we pass the next checkpoint," Mal answered, squeezing Simon's shoulders. "Save me a plate."

Simon snapped his fingers, dabbing his napkin at his mouth to cover the fact that he was choking down a mouthful of bread. "No. You. Sit. Now," he said sternly. "Don't make me pull rank."

"What rank?" Jayne carped.

"Doctor trumps Captain in medical situations," Zoë answered swiftly. Mal's mind was elsewhere already, locking onto his first mate, seeing only that she wasn't busy.

"Zoë, let's get to the cargo bay and fabricate ourselves an inventory."

"Can't, sir." Zoë calmly focused on her food.

"Can't?"

Zoë looked at him squarely. "Doctor's orders."

Mal's jaw flapped a little, looking from Zoë to Simon. Simon had that look of infinite patience, and when he spoke, it was with the gentleness of a lover, not the strictness of a doctor. "Would it kill you to stop for ten minutes and eat with us?"

Again Mal surveyed the group. River and Kaylee had turned on their pleading puppy eyes, and Jayne watched with more interest than seemed right. On Zoë's face, he could read their entire debate, as well as the final advice – _give them this. _

"Suppose ten minutes …" Mal mumbled, pulling up a seat next to Simon as River prepared a plate for him.

Jayne chortled, "Hoo, boy, somebody's whipped."

Mal rose threateningly from his chair, surprised when Simon didn't even try to hold him back. It was Kaylee who gripped Mal's arm and waved dismissively at Jayne.

"Don't pay him no mind, Captain," she said, looking sternly at Jayne. "Ain't like it's news."

River snickered against her knuckles, and others joined her.

"And you wonder why I don't eat with you."

His mouth already watering, Mal picked up his spoon and ravenously dug into the goulash. The conversation resumed and Mal listened, letting the familiar banter soothe his mind. Simon was picking half-heartedly at the food, shifting it to the edge of his plate so it would look like he was eating. He was listening as well, laughing at all the right cues, throwing back his retorts, but not engaging. Mal switched his spoon to his left hand, then reached under the table with his right and placed his hand on Simon's thigh, waiting. He wondered if he was crazy or if Simon really did flinch at his touch. Simon took Mal's hand, giving it a firm squeeze, then letting their fingers lace. His hands were cold and clammy.

Blaring sirens sounded in Mal's heart, and he stole a glance at Simon who flashed him a tight-lipped smile. Flying on love, Mal lifted their joint hands to his lips, kissed each one of Simon's finger tips, then set their hands down right on the tabletop between their plates for everyone to see. It was one of those public display milestones for Mal, and it managed to melt the fake smile off Simon's face so that a real one could get through.

_I love you_, Simon mouthed, squeezing Mal's hand appreciatively. Ten minutes turned into forty-five, and Mal started to remember why he'd always insisted on sit-down meals with his makeshift family. It was River who finally stood up and broke the fairy-tale aura.

"Thirty minutes to the checkpoint," she informed, standing and clearing the dishes from the table.

"Get to the bridge and slow our approach," Mal ordered, breaking into Captain mode. He turned to Simon. The fact that half of River's medicines were not Alliance approved for human use had turned up troublesome and costly at their last inspection. "The medical inventory?"

"Audit safe," Simon answered. "The new ledger is right by the door. Just don't swallow anything marked 'cold medicine.'"

"Zo –"

"Time to make cargo out of spare parts," she finished, standing.

Simon stood to leave, but Mal tugged his hand.

"Hey," Mal whispered softly, knowing only that he did not want to let go. The warning in his heart had silenced, but he yearned for connection.

"I need check on Inara."

"Be sure to bring her a plate of this," Mal said, tipping his head toward the table. "It's good food, Simon."

"Thanks."

Mal waited, but couldn't out-wait Simon.

"Mind if I kiss the chef?"

Simon considered Mal a fraction of a moment longer, then his whole body relaxed and he leaned in to plant a kiss on Mal's lips. Come to think of it, Mal was pretty sure the crew had never seen him and Simon kiss before – at least not intentionally in front of the whole lot of them. It was just a quick kiss, slightly longer than a peck, but not much more complicated. Still, it held all the peace and contentment that connected Mal to Simon and made their world unique. When he pulled back, Simon held Mal's hand just a little longer, and their eyes locked in a world filled only with their love. Again, the tension drained from Simon's body and he smiled whole-heartedly at Mal.

Simon went to his work and Mal stood to follow Zoë to the cargo bay.

"You're doin' dishes," he heard Jayne tell Kaylee as he walked out.

"No way!" Kaylee cried. "A bet's a bet. You saw them kiss."

"There was no tongue!" Jayne retorted.

Mal laughed and ignored them.

#

Two nights later, Mal was making his final rounds of the ship when he heard Simon cry out. The sound was muffled and ambiguous, but Simon had been so tense of late that it made him worry. He wondered why Simon was even up at this hour, but was secretly grateful for the excuse to drop by. His heart twisted at the whimpered moans leaking through Simon's door, and he knocked with gentle urgency. The cries silenced, but then there was nothing. He knocked again.

"Just a minute," came Simon's strained reply.

"Simon, it's me," Mal answered. Before he even finished the words, the door flew open and Simon leapt into his arms. The force nearly toppled Mal and he stumbled backwards, one hand holding Simon, the other reaching back to stabilize himself against the wall. Simon's body plastered to him, his arms wrapped tightly around Mal's neck, his face buried in his shoulder, his legs around Mal's waist. His skin was coated with sweat and his cock hard as steel pressed against Mal's stomach. He wore only loose gray sweat pants that provided little traction as Mal tried to hold him up. It was almost surreal how small and light he felt, trembling in Mal's arms, seeming for all the worlds like he was trying to dissolve right through Mal's skin and take shelter inside of him.

"Hey, Simon, hey," Mal soothed as soon as he had breath enough to speak.

"Please," Simon hissed, his muscles quivering with tension.

Mal carried Simon back into the room, but the place was a wreck. The bed was tipped sideways, the mattress askew. All of the trinkets on the bureau were rattled and a few looked broken and shattered. There were two spent needles by the far wall and a smeared, bloody handprint next to a broken clock. Mal pulled back to look at Simon's face, but Simon had hooked his chin around Mal's shoulder and so he couldn't see more than an ear. Simon's cock throbbed against him, and Mal wondered if he was in pain.

"Talk to me, Simon," Mal pleaded softly, but Simon didn't. Mal rocked on his feet, unsure of what to do next, knowing Simon was revealing a part of himself he'd much rather keep hidden. Leaving the room in disarray, Mal carried Simon to the Infirmary, and tried setting him on the bed there, but Simon held tight.

"Simon, let go," Mal urged gently.

An anguished cry surged through Simon's body, filling the air with the heart-wrenching shriek of suffering, and Simon's bones turned to jelly. A few seconds later, Mal felt a warm, damp stain growing on the front of his shirt and Simon's cock softened, though his arms and legs constricted around Mal.

"Not what I meant," Mal joked softly. He reached behind his shoulder, feeling for Simon's hand. It was trembling and slick blood.

Simon hissed. "It's just a scratch," he said, his voice muffled by Mal's skin.

"Can I see?"

Simon shook his head.

"The needles?"

"Sedative."

"Don't seem to be working."

Simon gripped him more tightly, and Mal felt a tear splash against his neck. "I just want to sleep."

"Come on," Mal grunted, lifting Simon again, this time feeling more of his weight. He carried Simon to the couch in the common area and sat down, reclining as best he could with Simon wrapped around him. After a few minutes of shifting, he finally sat sideways on the couch, using a pillow to cushion his back so he didn't crush Simon's feet as the leaned against the armrest.

The wet stain on Mal's shirt became cool and uncomfortable, but it was a small price to pay for the privilege of holding Simon through this moment. If it had been anyone else at the door, Simon would have taken that minute, found his composure, and buried the hurt again. Mal felt his collar dampen with Simon's tears, and his heart quivered and dissolved into pain. For nearly an hour, they sat without moving, Mal holding Simon, neither man talking nor wanting to talk. Then Simon closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Finally able to move, Mal carefully disentangled himself, and examined the cut on Simon's hand. It was deeper than a scratch, jagged across the palm, but nothing that would scar. He went into the Infirmary, got some supplies to clean and bandage the cut, and ministered gently to the wound. Next he went to Simon's room, ignored the mess, and found a fresh pair of pajamas for him. He looked at the two needles on the floor and found the wrapper clearly marking them as sedatives, but Simon's warning about mislabeled 'cold medicines' rang in his mind. Simon wouldn't try anyth – he'd ask for help, right? His heart quickening, Mal returned to Simon, but Simon slept numbly, the drugs having temporarily freed him from nightmares.

After redressing Simon and covering him with a blanket, Mal finished his work around the ship, then returned to his bunk and changed into loose gray pants and an old t-shirt. When he returned to the lounge, Simon no longer looked sedated. His body was tense, perspiring, and trapped in nightmare. Mal knelt quickly by his face, whispering soothes that medicines could not give, stroking Simon's hair, brushing his lips against Simon's skin. With a jerk, Simon awoke, his blue eyes screaming, though his voice was a whisper.

"Mal."

"I'm here," Mal assured, finding Simon's hand and holding it.

A dozen emotions played across Simon's face, mixing in such a way that Mal couldn't read any. Finally, Simon rolled on his side and lifted the blanket. Mal nestled under, trying to figure out how to lie down without rolling off the side of the couch. Simon pressed him flat on his back and levered himself so he was lying on top of Mal. His cheek rested on Mal's chest, and Mal could feel the tickle of his eyelashes when he blinked and the twist of his mouth as he thought.

Shifting and settling into the old, worn couch, Mal pulled the blanket over them both, then left his fingers to gently stroke Simon's smooth skin. Simon's breathing settled, and his fingers tapped unconsciously on Mal's chest.

"Are you comfortable?" Simon murmured tiredly after several minutes.

"I'm fine. Go to sleep, Simon."

"I am asleep."

"Me too."

#

Morning found Mal cramped and aching from sleeping on the small couch. His spine protested the lack of support, and he was pretty sure that was a gun jutting from under the cushion. Small caliber. Probably one of River's hide-and-seek games as she was so fond of starting with Jayne. Mal sighed. At least she'd stopped hiding things in the trash jettison.

Simon's body was molded pleasantly to Mal's, his musk a welcome morning fragrance. As he slept, he radiated peace, and his lips curved into a gentle smile. Mal shivered at the memory of the blood-curdling, guttural cry that had escaped Simon's lips last night. It was a tortured sound he hadn't heard since Serenity Valley. So many questions he had for Simon. So much, he wasn't sure –

"Hey, didn't I get in trouble for this kind of public display," Kaylee teased, skipping lightly down the stairs. Mal craned his neck to look at her, noting by the smudges on her face that she'd probably been up for hours already. Simon stayed molded to him, pliable as a blanket, fast asleep.

"Morning, Kaylee."

"I'm detecting a double-standard here." She folded her arms in a mock scold, but then bent over the couch and kissed his cheek lightly.

"It's not a double-standard. Simon here cut his hand and I nearly had to amputate." Mal held up Simon's injured hand to illustrate.

Kaylee knelt on the floor next to them, stroking Simon's face endearingly. It felt weird watching her be so tender with Simon, and there was a small twinge of jealousy tugging at Mal's mind. But Simon's burdens were too much for one man to carry, or even two men, so another part of him was relieved he wasn't the only one around who loved Simon dearly.

"Them nightmares coming back?"

Mal looked between Kaylee and Simon and shrugged. "We haven't shared a bed often enough for me to know. I'm hoping he'll talk."

"He gets so riled," Kaylee reflected. "I imagine it's all the fighting he wanted to do then and couldn't."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

Kaylee shook her head, her face scrunching with sadness. "Never a word. I found out it was a man, though. I didn't even suspect him sly before that, but after … a lot of things started making sense. He said he swore off menfolk. And then we broke up and I figured he swore off women too because it just brings it all back."

Mal nodded, his lips twitching.

"I'm really glad you two got together," Kaylee continued in a whisper, looking at Mal, the glisten of an unshed tear in her eye.

"He's hurt deep," Mal acknowledged.

"But healing nice," Kaylee said quickly, wiping her eyes and sniffling. "Look at him smiling on you. He never slept so peaceful next to me. I'm jealous of that."

Mal reached out and caught Kaylee's hand as she brushed Simon's lips. "He treated you good, though, right?"

"Never did anything deliberately hurtful," Kaylee answered, leaning back. "But remember that black eye I got and Jayne teased us merciless for a month about rough sex…"

"Mei mei," Mal breathed, horror flashing across his eyes. "He hit you?"

"No, he was just throwing things." Kaylee chuckled, then her face went wistful again. Mal looked sternly at her, not believing.

"It's true," she insisted. "I took an alarm clock right to the face."

Mal nodded slowly. "He does like the small appliances for throwing."

They sat together in sad, reflective silence, both of them watching as Simon slept peacefully, his head rising and falling to the rhythm of Mal's breathing.

"Were you looking for me?" Mal asked Kaylee.

"Simon actually." She held up her calf which was red and burned. "I kinda need a doctor."

"Good luck with that," Mal remarked, shifting slightly. "We haven't woken him up yet –"

With a devious smile, Kaylee stuck a finger in her mouth, then wriggled it in Simon's ear. Simon jerked awake, swatting, and laughing Kaylee's name before even opening his eyes. Both Mal and Kaylee smiled broadly, glad to see him wake in such high spirits. The demons of the night before had vanished. Simon gave Mal a quick kiss, and then rolled off the couch to treat Kaylee. Mal watched him briefly through the window, laughing and talking like he wasn't hurting at all.

#

They spent the day dirtside, and Mal made sure part of the take went to buying some fresh food for supper. Their employer gave a generous bonus on account of their Alliance troubles and even had another job waiting, since Serenity now had a reputation for speed. When he was picking up supplies, Mal had also bought a few cheap clocks, seeing as Simon seemed fond of breaking them. He wasn't quite sure if he should tell Simon about the stash and give the lot to him as a joke, or just store them up for when he needed them. Serenity was off the ground again by sunset and Jayne surprised them all at dinner with a dish he called "Drunken Apple Pork Chops."

Mal spent the evening in the cargo bay, sorting and storing their new payload, and all the fresh supplies he'd bought. Inara was doing better – steady on her feet at least; though she was so pale and drawn, she looked like a ghost of herself. Simon stood next to her on the catwalk, and their voices drifted pleasantly into the cargo bay as Mal worked. After a few hours, Simon bid Inara goodnight and came down the stairs to help Mal, who by that point was shifting and reorganizing more than anything else. Simon peeked into the box of items meant to be taken to the upstairs supply closet and noticed the stash of clocks immediately. Mals' heart sank, disappointed that he'd lost the element of surprise, but as the blood drained from Simon's face, he feared he'd made a much worse mistake than he realized.

"What is this?"

"Since you like breaking 'em," Mal answered lamely. "Thought I should…"

Simon sank slowly on the last stair and stared, moon-eyed into the box. He picked up one of the clocks and turned it over in his hand.

"I didn't mean…" Mal began, reaching out to take the clock from Simon. Suddenly, Simon's face screwed up and with a pained bellow, he hurled the clock at the wall. Then he picked up the next, and the next. When he'd chucked them all, he darted across the room to where they fell and pitched them all again, at the ground and at the bulkheads. He found a pair of heavy-duty lock cutters hanging on the wall and began pounding mercilessly at the clocks, one after the other until they shattered. Mal watched, horrified. He'd meant them as a joke, not as therapy … or torture.

The last clock proved unnaturally durable and when it did not crack, Simon fell next to it, his body writhing. His wrists were clasped over his hands in imaginary bonds, his bulging eyes mere inches from the offending clock.

"Mal," he sobbed, his voice pleading and vexed.

Mal fell to his knees beside Simon, pushing the clock aside. He pulled Simon's wrists apart, freeing him from the confining memory. Simon lurched toward him knocking him flat backward, and then climbed onto his body clinging to his torso like a drowning man to a life raft. Mal closed his eyes to his own guilt and held on too. When Simon's breathing calmed, Mal wriggled sideways and sat up again. Simon's head rested on his lap, and he inhaled raggedy breaths. Mal bent his body protectively over Simon's, murmuring in his ear, repeating the same words over and over like an incantation.

"I love you, Simon. I love you. I do. I love you, Simon. I love you. I do."

After a long mixture of shudders and sighs, Simon's breathing steadied and his finger traced circles over Mal's knees. Mal glided his hand soothingly through Simon's hair.

"It was all part of it, you know." Simon's words were matter-of-fact and bitter – the way Mal often spoke of the Alliance. "The belt on my hands. The clock by my face, counting every minute of it."

Mal inhaled sharply, not even wanting the vague details.

"Every second," Simon continued, his anger and bitterness slicing the air.

Cries for vengeance screamed through Mal's mind. Would Simon ever give him a name, or would he just have to kill everyone? He looked at Simon's face, but Simon's eyes were shifting thoughtfully.

"This was a bad idea. Us. Sleeping together."

Mal bit back his pleas for Simon to reconsider. It was often a bad idea to try and influence one of Simon's thought trains. Always better to wait things out.

"Every night, the memory floods back and I wake up …" Simon shuddered; "hurting… I've tried… nothing works! I'm better alone."

Angry tears fell from Simon's eye as he fisted Mal's clothes and clawed fruitlessly at his own frustration. Mal tried to listen, but he could only think of what Kaylee had told him that morning – she was jealous of how peacefully Simon slept next to him. In all of the eight times Mal remembered waking up next to Simon, it had never been otherwise. When morning came, Simon hovered in sleep, radiating peace.

"Simon, maybe the mistake isn't us sleeping together. Maybe the mistake is … not."

Simon lifted his head and looked at Mal, perplexed.

"I know we've been going at this whole physical relationship slow as snails, but I love waking up with you spread over me like a blanket. It's only ever a picture of peace when you do."

Simon looked desperately hopeful for a moment, but then his face twisted into a grimace, like he resented being dependent on Mal for anything.

"I remember the hurt," Simon whimpered softly. "But I barely remember what it felt like – with you."

Mal smiled sympathetically. "How about we clean this mess up and then maybe I can jog your memory? What do you say? Will you stay the night with me?"

Simon nodded slowly, then rolled on his back and laid his head on Mal's lap again. Mal looked up too, like they were star gazing, but all he noticed was a loose panel near the ceiling.

"I'll come tonight," Simon said softly. "I want to come." Mal did not miss his meaning. Giving one last glance to the mess in the bay, he decided it could wait, and flashed a smile at Simon, his toes already wriggling excitedly in his boots.

"My bunk?"

#

Simon was battle weary, and when they got to Mal's bunk, they just stood at the base of the ladder for several minutes and embraced each other.

"Been a long week," Mal commented. "I feel like I've hardly seen you."

Simon nodded against his chest.

"I worried about you, though. I saw you hurting and didn't know if I could help."

Simon squeezed him gently. Mal shifted uncertainly.

"Can I help?" Mal asked, pulling back to look at Simon.

"Kiss me."

Mal smiled and kissed Simon softly. Simon's lips parted, his tongue gently brushing against Mal's skin. It was the afterglow of the fairy tale. Simon's hands cradled his chin, then melted down the front of his body, dragging across the fabric of his shirt. Then Simon took Mal's hands and placed them on his face.

"Kiss here," Simon whispered, guiding Mal's fingers across his jaw line to the point of his chin. Mal cradled Simon's face, following the path he'd been directed, alternating between gentle kisses and long sweeps of his tongue. Simon always laughed when Mal dragged his tongue across his skin.

"Kiss here." Simon took Mal's hands and guided them down his neck across his collar bone. When had he unbuttoned his shirt? Mal didn't know and didn't rightly care. He tilted Simon's head in his hands, kissed down one side, then across Simon's collarbone, sliding Simon's shirt and vest off his shoulders as he went. While his lips moved, his feet directed Simon toward the bed. Simon sank down on the mattress, catching himself with his elbows.

"No shoes on the bed," Mal chastised lightly, tugging off Simon's shoes, and then his own. Then without acknowledging the action with words, Mal removed their belts as well, and shoved his alarm clock on his nightstand into a drawer. With a breath of anticipation, he melted over Simon, plundering his mouth, letting their tongues explore and play against each other. Simon bent one leg, rubbing his thigh against Mal's erection and Mal broke the kiss to groan.

"Here," Simon breathed, tracing an 'S' across his chest. Mal painted over the path with his tongue, reveling at the laughter rippling through Simon's arching torso. Mal caught up with Simon's fingers and nipped playfully, waiting for the next order.

"Now rest," Simon sighed, mirthfully. "Rest."

Was Simon asking him to stop? No, couldn't be. Somehow, whilst Mal's tongue was otherwise occupied, Simon had managed to unbutton his shirt and his hands were squeezing and pinching against Mal's nipples. Mal sat back, shivering as Simon flicked the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the bed. His stomach fluttered as Simon gazed at him, and his skin tingled where Simon's fingers ghosted across his battle-scarred skin. His body in a twitter, Mal captured Simon's hand and pressed it flat against his heart. Their eyes locked.

"You can touch me, you know."

Simon smiled, and raked his fingers across Mal's skin with only slightly more pressure than before. "You're beautiful. Have I ever told you?"

Mal smiled with pure joy. "Tell me more."

"The way you smile from your heart. It shines in your eyes even if when it doesn't make it to your face."

Mal felt a tug at the waistband of his boxers and realized that Simon had unbuttoned his pants while he spoke. He pumped Mal mercilessly through the fabric until Mal's underwear was damp with pre-cum. Simon's hands cupped Mal with quivering pleasure and pushed the remaining garment to Mal's knees, his fingers putting delightful pressure on Mal's skin. Not one to leave a hard cock wanting, Simon jerked Mal off quickly, pulling Mal's body on top of him so that Mal came all over their stomachs. It was too brief, but still glorious.

Simon used Mal's shirt to mop the semen off their bodies, then shifted to finish undressing Mal. Mal rose to his knees as Simon slid the clothes down, and in losing his pants, he stumbled off of the narrow bed and fell onto the floor. They shared the laugh and Simon flopped on the bed, fingering a bunch of papers Mal had tacked on the wall.

"I've never been in your bunk before."

"You're at an odd angle for critiquing the décor, but I think you got the best view," Mal joked, regaining his feet, and climbing on top of Simon. He liked being naked, even if Simon wasn't looking.

"What is all this?" Simon asked, still gazing at the wall.

Resigning himself to Simon's curiosity, Mal snuggled onto Simon's shoulder and let his lover explore. Simon would no doubt recognize everyone's handwriting. There were a few birthday cards from Kaylee, a letter Inara sent him from the Training House, a petition Wash tried getting the crew to sign demanding higher hot water rations in the shower. He could still hear Wash's voice in heated debate on the issue, trivial as it was. Tacked next to that was a recipe entitled 'Protein Surprise' that Book had written out with the word 'rosemary' thrice underlined. Next to Kaylee's birthday card from last year was a shopping list in Jayne's block letter scrawl – mostly ammo, but at the bottom in Kaylee's curly script were the words 'water balloons.' Kaylee and Simon had planned Mal a party that year, which began with the crew dousing him from the catwalk. It was a huge mess, but worth every hour of clean-up. Tucked in the back were letters from some war friends, including one from Zoë dated just after the war saying she'd put 5% in on a spaceship. There was a limerick River had composed in protest of molded protein and the empty bag of marshmallows he'd saved from his and Simon's first date.

Simon reached up and fingered a poem he'd written for Mal a few months into their courtship entitled 'Road kill makes me think of you: a very bad sonnet'. It was Simon's mockery of a love letter, filled with sarcasm and underhanded insults. He'd written after being awake two days straight caring for River when she was sick. The girl had gotten a strange brain fever that left her delusional, but it took forever to diagnose because Simon was so accustomed to her imaginative games.

"That's my poem," Simon mused and Mal laughed. "My incredibly unromantic…"

"It has your voice," Mal shrugged. "I had all this in a box before but I … Kinda wearing my heart on my sleeve, ain't I?"

"The smell was savory as your morning tongue / though not as pleasant sliding down my throat," Simon read, his eyes crinkling with laughter. "That's… really bad."

"Is it?" Mal challenged, capturing Simon in a kiss, sliding his tongue as deeply down Simon's throat as possible. Simon's arms folded around his neck and he pulled Mal deeper, pressing their bodies together.

"Really good," Simon corrected, moaning and pressing against Mal. "Make me come."

Mal attacked Simon's body with quick little kisses, maneuvering for a better angle. "Requests?"

"Please," Simon begged.

"I will suck you dry."

"Yes," Simon hissed, and Mal started kissing his way down Simon's torso, letting his tongue thrust against Simon's belly button as he worked the buttons of Simon's pants. Simon groaned at the pressure against his swollen parts, and squirmed as Mal kissed across the fabric.

"No," Simon whimpered and Mal stopped immediately. Simon's eyes were pressed shut, and his face was flush.

"Don't go down," Simon gasped and Mal waited again. Finally, a pleasured giggle pulsed down Simon's spine and his hips thrust toward Mal. "Start at my toes and go up."

Mal smiled at the dichotomy that was Simon Tam: on the one hand vulnerable and inexperienced, on the other he knew exactly what he wanted. Simon arched his hips as Mal slowly pulled his trousers down, leaving an imprint of butterfly kisses as his lashes and hot breath tickled the hair of Simon's legs. Once he got to Simon's feet, he discarded the garment, sucked on each of Simon's toes, and used his tongue to paint a line up the inside of the right leg. Simon writhed happily as fire shot through his body, making his cock dance. Mal worked his way up slowly, and paused briefly at Simon's knee, snaking his tongue to tickle the back of it. When he reached the tip of Simon's cock and ran the point of his tongue down the back. He found that sweet spot that made Simon wild and added both hands to his work, one fondling nethers to knees, the other naval to nipples.

"Now," Simon begged, his hands clutching the bed sheets.

Simon, Mal decided, was an intriguing mix of fast and slow sex. The goal of foreplay was not prolonging arousal. For Simon, arousal was quick, frightening, and not to be trifled with. What Simon really wanted, what he longed for, was intimacy. Mal reached up and laced his fingers with Simon's, then took him wholly in his mouth. Simon bucked desperately, but Mal kept pressure on his hips with their joint hands, to keep from being choked. Developing a gentle rhythm, mixing lips, teeth, and tongue, Mal brought Simon to full hardness. The bitter taste of pre-cum coated his tongue and Mal squeezed Simon's hand. Their eyes met briefly and that was all the encouragement Simon needed before he let go.

#

When Mal woke up the next morning, his first resolution was to pull that old double bed out of storage. Zoë had given it to Kaylee, who gave it to Jayne, who slashed it open at some point to hide money in it… or guns. The thing probably had no spring left in it, but it would do until they could afford a new one. Mal's whole left arm was asleep and tingling, and he tried to shift so Simon would mold to his right side instead. Simon could not be convinced to spoon in a bed so small. They'd tried a couple different ways, and eventually Simon felt guilty and stopped protesting, but he was still twitchy as hell. Mal gave in because the whole point of them sharing a bed was to sleep peaceful, and Simon apparently preferred being the 'blanket' to Mal's 'mattress'.

Mal's fingers grazed across Simon's skin as he looked up at the wall with all the papers tacked to it. A hundred memories he treasured for different reasons, and hadn't had the guts to face until Simon. Simon stirred and rolled sideways off of Mal, nearly falling onto the floor but for Mal's arms around him. Moaning contentedly, Simon nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

"Mal," Simon murmured sleepily.

"Mmm?"

"What's the trick?"

"To what?"

"Cock sucking?"

Mal grinned, completely turned on by how dirty, sexy, and yet professionally analytical those words sounded coming out of Simon's mouth. "Put your hands on my hips and hold me down."

Simon lifted his head, looking startled and horrified.

"Come on, Simon. Ain't like it's bondage," Mal laughed easily. "If you don't want to get gagged, you gotta hold me down. If I were having a seizure, you'd hold me down so you could give me a shot."

"That's different."

"What you're giving is good, and if I'm bucking all over and choking you, I miss out. Last night, did you even notice my hands on you?"

"I –"

"Truthful?"

Simon shook his head, then rested against Mal's chest. He'd have to process the information. Mal figured that in a brain as big as his, there was a lot more red tape for thoughts like that to pass through. Simon's fingers pinched lightly against Mal's skin as he pondered, and Mal felt an old, familiar tingling building in his groin. He buried the wants burning through him, knowing Simon wasn't ready.

"Ask me," Simon whispered.

Mal looked down, startled. Simon's innocent, open blue eyes gazed into his, not even knowing what he'd just offered. Mal choked on his own words.

"Well –" he began, then stopped and looked away from Simon.

"It's okay," Simon assured. "Ask me."

Mal took a deep breath, and tried again, avoiding Simon's eyes. "While we're talking so casual about sex, there's something else I want to know if you're open to."

"And that is," Simon prompted.

Mal took another deep breath, but couldn't form the words. So instead, he ran a finger down Simon's spine continuing right between the cheeks of his ass. Simon flinched almost immediately, so Mal pulled his hand away.

"No," Simon stated, his voice low and firm, his eyes downcast.

Squeezing his shoulder lightly, Mal conjured mental buckets of cold water to quench his desire. "Is that a no to bottoming, topping, or a categorical ass embargo against tongue and fingers as well?"

He risked a look, and Simon was just staring at him, scandalized. Not horrified, just appalled, like he'd never heard such words. Mal chuckled and pressed Simon to him, emboldened by the disapproving quirk of his lips.

"Have you ever been on top? 'Cause I'll beg shameless for it if'n…"

Mal trailed off as the disapproval melted from Simon's cheeks and all that was left was uncertainty.

"Simon?"

"I'm not ready."

Pinching his cheek sympathetically, Mal hugged him close. "Didn't ask if you were ready. Just asked if you were open to the idea."

Simon's jaw was tense and shifting, the ideas passing through a hundred checkpoints in his mind. "Well, if you're going to beg," he shrugged sardonically, the strength in his voice clearly forced.

Mal silenced him with a gentle squeeze. "No pressure, Simon. Even if we never – I love you the same."

"I know," Simon nodded, his fingers twitching against Mal's skin. "I… can't … now."

"Alright," Mal agreed, his hand stroking Simon's back. Simon found Mal's hand and held it, then closed his eyes, letting his thoughts churn to the beat of Mal's heart.

"Ask me again … later."

Mal smiled, and squeezed Simon again, tempering hope with patience.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I'm sleeping now."

Mal closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Me too."

#

BONUS MATERIAL (a sonnet in authentic Shakespearean form and meter)

**Road Kill Makes Me Think of You**  
><em>a very bad sonnet by Simon Tam<br>composed just after 3am_

I traveled on a road, 'twas lined with dung  
>A color brown just like your favorite coat<br>The smell was savory as your morning tongue  
>Though not as pleasant sliding down my throat<p>

The number one-oh-three bus passed me by  
>The squish-squish sound of road kill in its wake<br>Your eyes are like that possum's, blue as sky  
>Though may your lips, that grimace never make<p>

The possum's gray fur made me think of you  
>And how I fear you never may grow old<br>Without you, I'm as flat as road kill too  
>My eyes are dead, my heart stops and grows cold<p>

Though fraught with dung and road kill, know this true  
>I'll only travel down this road with you.<p>

#


	5. Hesitance

**Hesitance**

There was a certain way Simon licked Mal's ear that always made Mal squeak in the most embarrassing way. Every time Mal felt Simon's tongue thrust into his ear and he made that ridiculous squeak, his cock jumped. Add a few kisses and suggestive comments, and Simon had Mal coming without even the slightest touch elsewhere. True to his word, Simon had been kind enough never to try this in public and as much as Mal appreciated that fact, it seemed odd to him because the first year of their relationship had been almost entirely in the public eye. Simon had been so skittish one-on-one that Mal had made a point of it. Now they had a private life – they shared a bunk. It gave Simon far too many opportunities to provoke that embarrassing squeak, and Mal was sure that Kaylee heard him through their shared wall, though she didn't ever say.

There was a special way Simon used his toes to massage Mal's calves when he woke up. Mal liked to sleep on his stomach and Simon liked to sleep sprawled over Mal's left shoulder. Simon's toes were always warm and soft and soothingly skilled in the arts of massage. Most of the time Mal woke up to the soft stroke of Simon's toes on the back of his leg, but occasionally, he'd awake with Simon's tongue on his ear and that just got wet and messy… but it still hadn't gotten old. Granted it had only been two weeks since they started bunking together, but Mal had a feeling it might take awhile for the luster to wear off things like that. Simon was smart and didn't overuse his tricks.

They were three hours from their next fuel stop and Mal awoke early to the pleasant feel of Simon's toes pinching against his heel.

"Morning, Simon."

"Good morning," Simon sighed, pulling himself onto Mal's back by way of a hug. Simon's shirt was satiny soft, sliding between their skin like warm lotion. His lips brushed Mal's shoulder, up the neck, and heading for the earlobe. Mal enjoyed the morning ministrations and tried not to get too excited, because Simon was often content to kiss and cuddle. After a few minutes nibbling soft skin, Simon sighed pleasantly and settled prostrate on top of Mal, resting cheek to cheek.

"I like waking up next to you," Simon whispered, his toes starting to move again, his fingers dancing across the back of Mal's hand. Mal splayed his fingers, catching Simon's, and squeezing tight.

"Since when do you wake up next to me?" Mal joked. "Seems you always wake up on top of me."

"I like that, too."

"Me too. Wanna feel what it feels like?"

Simon's toes stopped massaging, and Mal got the sense that the suggestion made him a little nervous. His voice wasn't nearly so smooth when he answered.

"Okay."

"You make it sound like I offered to funnel feed you Jayne's protein pea soup."

Simon didn't answer; he just shifted onto his side, waiting for Mal to do the same. It was tricky maneuvering on a bed meant for one, but that also had not gotten old. Mal rolled onto his side and Simon lay tentatively on the warm spot he'd left. Apprehension and determination mixed on his features, and after shifting into a comfortable position, his eyes met Mal's with the go-ahead.

Mal rolled his eyes, smiling at the silliness of Simon's nervousness, but accepting it just the same. Unable to help himself, he leaned over and kissed as much of Simon's mouth as wasn't buried on the pillow, his tongue tracing along Simon's lips until he felt a smile.

"You are a novelty," Mal commented, staying on his side and stroking Simon's shoulder. Simon smiled bashfully, the tension in his body easing slightly. Mal leaned a little more over Simon, masking the move by rubbing Simon's opposite shoulder. He shifted one leg over Simon and used his toes to pinch against Simon's heel the way Simon did for him. Simon bit his lip and exhaled, his head finally relaxing against the pillow. Not trusting Simon to support his full weight (at least not without freaking out) Mal sprawled easily over Simon's right shoulder, adding weight bit by bit as Simon sighed and smiled. Mal had to admit it was a pleasant view from the top and gave good access for kissing a number of sweet spots, but Mal much preferred the bottom.

"Toes," Simon murmured, and Mal stroked his toes up Simon's calf, tickling the back of his knee, then going back down. Simon moaned pleasantly, his voice muffled by the pillow. The sound reverberated through Mal and his lips reached for Simon again.

"This is what you give me, Simon," Mal whispered, nipping at Simon's ear lobe, then going for the pulse point on his neck.

"It is good," Simon agreed, shivering in a way that sent jolts of fire through Mal. "But when I lay on you, I don't think I'm nearly that hard."

Mal laughed and pressed against Simon's thigh. "Probably true."

"Do you want me to –"

"You don't have to." Mal always felt like a user when Simon offered to finish him off so businesslike.

"No I ..." Simon trailed off, then rolled, pulling Mal on top of him. Mal lifted onto his elbows immediately out of habit, but not before he felt Simon's own erection grazing against his. Keeping his upper body elevated, Mal brushed his hips against Simon's again, checking to be sure.

"Really?" Mal asked, excited and surprised. "Now?"

"It's pretty hot under you," Simon answered coyly, his fingers already tracing a line down Mal's bare chest and teasing the waistband of his pants. "And your toes… what were you doing with your toes?"

"Same thing you do," Mal laughed, sitting straddled over Simon's hips so that their groins pressed together, and then gently coaxing Simon's shirt over his head.

"I do that?" Simon remarked incredulously. "No wonder you always wake up half hard."

"I wake up half hard because you sleep on top of me," Mal answered, dipping his head to run a tongue over Simon's bare stomach. "Just wait 'til we get that bigger bed and you'll see."

"Do we really need a bigger bed?" Simon groaned, arching his back and drawing Mal toward him. Mal sank cautiously on top of Simon, compelled by want, but careful not to trap his lover. Simon's arms snaked across his back, pulling him tighter. Skin slid across skin and they lost themselves in a kiss. Simon sucked Mal's tongue into his mouth and let Mal take control. Finally putting his full weight on Simon, Mal moved his hands to remove their pants.

"You're heavy," Simon giggled, breaking the kiss to grunt and shift. Mal had never tried resting his full weight on Simon since Simon tended to panic when he couldn't move.

"Too heavy?"

Simon shook his head, smiling, and lifting his hips so Mal could slide his pants down. Mal could only push so far because Simon was pressing them chest to chest, shimmying just enough that his erect nipples teased against Mal's. Then Simon used his toes to yank at the hem of Mal's sleep pants and lower them as well. Once their cocks fell against each other, neither was interested in getting their clothing much past their thighs. It was a challenge, but fun nonetheless. Simon's tongue slid sinfully across Mal's nipples and he could hardly think of anything else. At one point, Mal felt fear course through Simon, but before he could lift his weight off, Simon rolled them both onto the floor. Mal grunted as Simon fell on top of him, aroused by the roughness of the move, even if it was accidental.

"Okay?" Mal checked.

Simon nodded, panting and thrusting, but he was going for Mal's ear, which meant he was just about done. Mal smiled sympathetically, cringing in anticipation of the uncontrollable squeak that Simon was about to stimulate, but it never came. Simon licked Mal's ear lobe, sucked, then whispered Mal's name. Over and over he repeated Mal's name, like a gentle endearment mixed with an incantation, and it set Mal's heart ablaze.

Surprised by the new tactic, Mal caught Simon's eye and saw fierce determination. Simon was trying. Taking it slow. Following Mal's pace. Instead of giving into the panic that had surged through him and rushing to finish and escape, he was relaxing and falling back into the gentle rhythm of their love making. Nothing could have made Mal hungrier for his lover. He devoured Simon's mouth and slipped a hand between them, fondling, squeezing, teasing, and milking the pleasure from Simon's body. Simon came first, searing warm heat across their bellies, the surge through his body pushing Mal over the edge. The 'verse filled with stars.

When they'd regained their breath, Simon sat up and finished stripping off their clothing, using his pants to mop off their bodies and the floor.

"This is why we need a bigger bed," Mal pointed out, tipping up a knee and fanning it side to side.

"The floor dries faster."

#

It didn't even out after that. Simon simply preferred being on top and Mal enjoyed sleeping underneath him. Although Mal did learn that a few stealthy strokes of his big toe could get Simon hard almost as fast as Simon's tongue in Mal's ear. Simon had quirky sweet spots and Mal loved finding them.

Bunking together had shoved their relationship violently toward serious – although Mal had been serious about Simon since pretty much the first night. Simon hadn't given up his own space, and it was nice that his presence in Mal's bunk had started at the bed and only slowly emanated from there. It made the change more gradual and easier to manage. It gave Mal space to reflect on all the little things he'd learned about Simon and his tumultuous past. He knew Simon preferred analog clocks to digital, but not the kind with a ticking second hand. He knew that Simon did not like shoes on the bed because he was finicky, but Simon did not want belts on the bed because they reminded him of his past. He knew not to trap Simon but that that had nothing to do with the fact that Simon liked sleeping on top. He knew that when they were making love and Simon went for his ear, that something had freaked him out and he just wanted to finish. He knew that Simon would always finish him off even if he didn't come himself.

A week after their rare, sweet morning sex, Mal found Simon in the Infirmary, test tubes set up lab style, mixing River's meds. Simon had finally developed a magical cocktail that kept River lucid and healthy and yet cryptic as ever. (Apparently the last symptom was a genius thing.) Most weeks, River mixed her own meds – they'd all been trained on how to, just in case something happened – but this week, River had a head cold and Simon didn't want her contaminating the batch. Simon didn't look up when Mal entered. He kept his focus on what he was doing, smiling slightly as Mal's hand ghosted across his shoulders. Mal hopped onto the countertop that they used as a second bed and watched distractedly, his mind brewing other questions.

"Ask me, Mal," Simon invited, his voice level, his attention on the micropipette and the green liquid he was mixing.

"Simon, are you ever gonna trust me?"

"I do trust you."

Mal leaned against the wall, bringing one foot onto the countertop and resting his arm on his knee. "You know I don't try to dig up what's past, but sometimes your past comes between us. And I sit there and I wait for the moment to pass and I don't ask for an explanation."

"And I thank you for that," Simon acknowledged dispassionately.

"Please, I'm not asking for details."

"Good."

"Ok, I am asking for some details," Mal pressed. "You gotta give me something, Simon."

"Alright fine." Simon put down his tools and looked directly at Mal. He had that painstaking doctorly arrogance and patience masking his emotions. "Then ask me a real question."

"Last week, we were lying in bed. All I did was say I wanted to lay on top of you for a change. Why'd you get all twitchy?"

Clearly, Simon hadn't been prepared for Mal to ask such a direct and specific question. He averted his eyes quickly, finished preparing the last needle, then went to cleaning the counter. "I let you, didn't I? And I was fine. In fact, I thought we had a rather pleasant morning."

"That's not an answer."

"I know," Simon whispered softly, taking off his gloves and rinsing his hands in the sink.

"Simon –"

"Can we talk tonight?" Simon interrupted abruptly. "I need time to think."

"Sure," Mal agreed, watching in surprise as Simon walked out, leaving the stack of meds on the counter. "Sure, tonight."

#

Mal sat up working on Serenity's fake ledger until late in the evening, waiting for Simon to come to bed. When he felt his stomach grumbling again, he knew it was past midnight, and started worrying he'd scared Simon off. He went to the passenger dorms and found Simon in his bunk, pacing, hands clasped nervously in front.

"I was just coming," Simon claimed, his feet stopping when Mal entered. Mal looked around, grateful that Simon hadn't tossed the room, but frustrated all the same that he'd reduced Simon to pacing.

"We don't have to talk if it's just gonna rile you."

"I … Thank you."

"I didn't mean to spoil your afternoon. Let's just get some sleep."

Simon nodded and started for the door, but Mal grabbed his elbow.

"We don't always have to stay at my place. You got a bed here."

Simon looked doubtful and Mal's shoulders hunched in frustration.

"See, there you go, getting twitchy again about trying something new. Am I invading your space?"

"Mal, this is completely different," Simon dismissed. "Have you ever slept on the passenger dorm beds?"

"No."

Simon tugged his hand and led him out the door. "Trust me on this, Mal."

"Is it that bad?" Mal laughed as Simon pulled him up the stairs. "Maybe that's why we never get repeat passengers."

Simon smiled with him and didn't drop his hand until they were climbing into Mal's bunk. Mal gave Simon a quick kiss, shed his shirt and shoes and crawled into bed, but Simon took the chair opposite him, so Mal sat up again to listen.

"I know I can be suspicious about new things," Simon opened academically, sounding like he'd worked all afternoon on the speech. Mal ignored the unnaturalness of the tone and took Simon's speech for the attempt at honesty that it was.

"You've obviously deduced that I've been … well, he … before. Like you, he promised …fun … I'm…"

"Is there any sentence in this you can complete?" Mal finally interrupted. "Because we could just not talk."

"I'm not a fool," Simon retorted quickly and firmly.

"I know that."

"A lie that starts as a lie is easy to spot," Simon quoted defensively. "A lie that starts as the truth and then gets weird –"

"Simon, what are you afraid of?" Mal demanded.

"I'm afraid you'll hurt me!"

Mal froze, glad and appalled by the honest answer. His mind flapped through a million platitudes before he spoke. "You know I'd never do anything intentional."

"I know." His voice was quiet and frustrated.

Swallowing hard, Mal let surface his own fear. "But, Simon, I also know I'm a bit rough around the edges. And I know one day, I might do something, and you're gonna get hurt."

"That's truly inspiring, Mal," Simon remarked sardonically.

"I'm not perfect, Simon. I lose my temper sometimes and I hit with a closed fist. I try to be gentle with you, but I gotta know that if I screw up you're not gonna run."

"Do you think I'm worried about a black eye?" Simon snapped incredulously, his voice rising.

"I don't know what you're worried about! Maybe you could tell me instead of being all hypothetical!"

"Mal!"

Their shouts echoed in silence and both men froze, willing away the defensiveness and mistrust. Mal fought to control his voice and circled through some other specific questions that would give him more clues.

"How old were you when it happened?" he asked quietly.

Simon rested his forearms across his thighs and looked intently at his clasped fingers, but did not answer.

"How long?" Mal tried.

Still no answer.

"How did you get out of it?"

Mal closed his eyes in defeat, unable to take the sight of Simon ignoring him.

"River," Simon whispered.

Mal's eyes snapped open.

"I moved out of the house. A week later she sent me a wave. She read it right off my face and I didn't even realize. She sent one of her friends to bring me home. She was so many grades ahead that all her friends were bigger than me."

Simon laughed a little imaging River's friend, but then his eyes went dark with regret. "I was so mad at her. I yelled at her and went back to his place."

Mal inhaled sharply. Simon never gave the man a name. Never even let it slip. He had probably become a nameless monster in Simon's memory.

"That's when things started getting really weird," Simon continued. "The second time I went … I thought … I don't know what I thought. I don't know why I stayed. I don't think I ever thought honestly about what was going on. The second time River sent someone for me, he punched him so hard it killed him. I tried to help … I still didn't even realize I'd been…"

After a few moments silence, Simon ran his fingers through his hair, then looked up at Mal, signaling the story's end. Mal shuddered at the knowledge – Simon's abuser was dead.

"When did you realize?"

This time Simon's eyes darted to the walls and the ceiling. He fixated on the sonnet posted to Mal's wall, using that as an anchor while his mind went into the past.

"It was my second year of MedAcad. My friends and I were pretty wild drinkers, and it was just after exams. Usually we were pretty … some guy took me out back to an ally and by the time my friends noticed … they came out and scared him off, but he'd already raped me."

Mal swore under his breath, stunned by how easily Simon confessed to being raped. Simon's words were distant and disconnected as though telling someone else's story.

"I remember being in the hospital, and I was still drunk enough to actually think honestly without being clouded by feelings. I reasoned that in my ER rotation, I'd seen dozens of rape victims and I knew how much it hurt them and shattered them. Then there was me, and all I thought is that it wasn't so bad … comparatively."

Simon's face screwed up and a tear fell from his eye.

"I started –" He motioned to his tear stained cheek. "My friends thought I was finally processing what had happened that night, but…"

A few deep breaths later, Simon swallowed his grief, masked his pain with the analytic storyteller, and looked at Mal. When he spoke, his voice was pure pre-canned lecture. "In my dreams, I don't just relive what happened. I experience the full truth of it – the events and the realization. And I'm not willing to rehash those moments, even for the comfort of you knowing. It helps when you hold me, but it's too much … And if at times I hesitate to try something new, it's because I have a long history of lying to myself, saying everything is okay. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid that what seems like an innocent move now will leave me waking up in a hospital bed in five years realizing…"

Mal's jaw hung open, horrified by Simon's words, and sickened by the stoic mask he now wore. His heart bursting, Mal leapt out of bed to cross the distance between him and Simon, pulling his lover into an embrace, pressing kisses against his temple.

"Yesu, Simon, when I said I might hurt you, I meant I might break your nose or shoot you in an honest fight."

"I would prefer if you didn't shoot me," Simon replied sarcastically. "For health reasons mostly, but also my personal beliefs don't allow it."

Mal relaxed a little at Simon's use of humor, but didn't let go. Simon remained impassive, not willing to feel the horrific past he'd just shared. After a few minutes, he tugged Mal toward the bed, kicking off his shoes as he went. Mal lay on his back, letting Simon's head rest against his chest. Even if Simon was composed, Mal was shaking inside and out and he wanted to hold his treasured lover. He brushed his fingers through Simon's silky, brown hair, noting the tickle of Simon's eyelashes on his skin.

"You know if I ever lift a finger against you Zoë will kill me," Mal told him.

"Or River."

"Kaylee will help. But me and Zoë…" Mal trailed off reflectively. It was back in the war when he and Zoë had lost so much they had forgotten their own humanity. These days, they ran through the motions and at times, Mal could even convince himself that he'd successfully learned to live and love again. Now that he had Simon, Mal swore he felt more alive than ever before, and Mal knew this must have been what Zoë felt with Wash. But the war wasn't just something they could forget. Mal and Zoë always watched out for each other. Whenever Mal slipped, Zoë was there to smack him upside the head and vice versa.

"If anything should 'get weird', Zoë won't wait 'til it gets serious," Mal assured. "She's warned me already and she's keeping an eye out for you."

"That's interesting," Simon murmured, painting lazy circles on Mal's chest. "She warned me too."

#


	6. Cleansing Dreams

**Cleansing Dreams**

_Bomb shells exploded overhead, shaking the walls of the collapsed church. Mal crouched in the rubble, dodging the falling remnants of sacred statues, his back slick with blood where the shrapnel had penetrated his armor and shred his flesh. The dust burned his skin and his left leg dragged behind him, paralyzed since the first explosion hit. Desperately, he searched the fallen bodies for a weapon that still had rounds in it so that he could defend himself. McHenry was dead. Bender was dead. Zoë?_

_Zoë tied a tourniquet around Mal's knee, though he could not feel it. She urged him toward consciousness and handed him a weapon. There was no rest. Only the need to keep fighting._

_Mal ducked behind the tilted slab of the building's foundation and looked at Zoë. The sound of exploding mortars drowned out the warning sirens and the blast threw Mal backwards. His head hit the opposite wall with blinding force and he fought the fading blackness._

Mal awoke with a start, aching from the force of the explosion, his body coated with sweat. He hated that the screams of Serenity Valley still haunted him. It was a plague he kept hidden from everyone and it was his greatest fear, sharing this secret with Simon. Had Simon not had the courage to reveal his own nightmares to Mal, then Mal never would've invited him to share a bunk so quickly. It was a source of great relief that Simon never made a fuss over the dreams. He just stroked Mal's arm and whispered soothes in his ear until they both fell asleep again.

_"Stay with me, Mal!" Zoë was shouting at him, but it was too late. Mal's body bled and his limbs were numb. The sky crackled above them, then exploded in darkness. Mal fell to the ground and Zoë on top, unmoving. When he looked up, he saw Simon's face covered in blood and grime, glazed eyes staring skyward, gone forever._

Mal jerked awake again, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. Simon's face was new to the dream. New and terrifying. Waiting for his breathing to steady, Mal took note of the real world around him, hearing the steady thrum of Serenity's engine and feeling the coolness of Simon's absence. They'd finally bought their double bed and it was the first time in months that Mal had woken up without Simon sleeping on top of him. He didn't like the distance.

Rolling over, he saw Simon lying on the far side of the bed, sleeping on his side. Simon had gotten up twice during the night to treat Jayne's most recent gunshot wound to the hip. Part of the problem was that Jayne refused to lie still unless he was doped. Mal was certain that Jayne getting shot had triggered his return to the Valley and seeing Simon lying on his side like a fallen soldier only fueled the images of the past. He needed to feel Simon's warmth, so he reached out to touch.

Scooting to Simon's side of the bed, Mal spooned behind him and snaked his arms over Simon's chest. Simon's body was as tense as a corpse in rigor and his skin and clothing were damp with perspiration. Reason fleeing, Mal returned to the Valley and Simon's glazed face, and his heart pounded in residual panic. Simon whimpered at Mal's touch, still trapped in his own nightmare.

"Simon," Mal whispered soothingly, pulling Simon to the middle of the bed. Simon inhaled raggedly and let his body be dragged. It pained Mal to feel how completely the nightmarish memories tortured Simon's body as intensely as if he'd survived Serenity Valley too. The difference was that Mal had let his soul die, while Simon's was simply buried alive.

"Simon, I'm here," Mal whispered. He rubbed his hands over Simon's torso as much for himself as for Simon. He lifted the hem of Simon's shirt, pressing his palms against Simon's sweat-soaked skin. He could feel Simon's heart beating rapidly and the ripple of muscles as Simon's body came back to life, released from the nightmare.

"Mal," Simon answered, gripping Mal's wrist and forcing Mal to hug him tighter.

They rocked together in the middle of the bed, each clinging to the other, sticky with sweat, but desperate for the warmth of a companion.

"Been awhile," Mal commented. In fact, Simon had not had a nightmare since before they started bunking together. Simon didn't answer. His trembling fingers stroked Mal's arms, then pressed Mal's hands flat against him.

"Didn't hurt as much this time," Simon finally said, burrowing into Mal's body. "You had a dream too?"

"I missed you when I woke up."

He squeezed Simon tighter and kissed the back of his neck. Simon smiled softly, still hurting, but grateful for Mal's presence. Mal wished he didn't have so much work today, else he would lie with Simon awhile and get some rest. He needed to work.

"Don't stop," Simon requested, his voice tinged with hurt and want.

"Don't stop what?"

Simon placed his hands over Mal's, encouraging the continuation of the massage. Grateful to be needed and relieved to be moving, Mal rubbed his hands over Simon's chest with renewed vigor, taking in the smoothness of the skin, the softness of the muscles beneath, that slight dimple just where the rib cage ended. His thumb grazed across Simon's belly button, and his fingers danced just inside the waistband of Simon's shorts. Simon's stomach flattened as Mal's palm ran across it, in part because he was ticklish, but mostly because he was reveling in the touch. He could feel Simon's heart pounding as their bodies pressed closer and closer, in danger of violating physics and merging completely. Mal need to touch Simon right now. He needed for Simon to be alive and real. And Simon needed to be touched.

"Feels good," Simon murmured, squirming a little to give Mal access to his sides. "Something he never did."

It was an odd statement, and probably a compliment. If nothing else, it told Mal he was wiping the nightmare right off of Simon's skin and bringing him to the present. They shuddered almost in unison and then Mal stopped moving his hands and wrapped one leg possessively around Simon.

"I should check on Jayne," Simon said finally.

"Ten more minutes."

Despite the compactness of the position, they rarely ever achieved it on the smaller bed because neither man liked being backed against the wall. Having a double bed made the world feel open around their cocoon of skin and bed sheets. Simon's breathing soothed and within the first minute, he was asleep in Mal's embrace. Mal reckoned it was a trick Simon had learned as a doctor – to fall asleep in a minute and be completely rested after ten. Mal bit Simon's shoulder lightly, tasting the fresh-laundered fabric of his shirt, willing the memory of blood and mortars off his tongue. The comm beeped at him once – a signal from Zoë.

"I gotta get the mule prepped."

"Ten more minutes."

"No, Simon."

Groaning, Simon rolled over in Mal's embrace and buried his head in Mal's shoulder.

"Shower?"

#

Showers with Simon were always more intimate than sexual – another quiet moment to soak in each other's presence. To Mal, it felt like Simon lathered up all the peace in the 'verse between his palms and smoothed it over every inch of Mal's skin. More than once, he'd fallen asleep to the rhythm of Simon's touch and awoken to that self-satisfied smile on his lips. Mal had prided himself on independence for so long, it amazed him how sweet it was to surrender to Simon's care. Simon was a gift to him.

Simon was meticulous and efficient in showering, probably because everyone in Serenity was strictly rationed six minutes of hot water. Except for Zoë who contributed a part of her cut every take so she could have ten. She watched very carefully to make sure that Mal used her donated earnings to keep the water heater in good repair. Mal never told the crew about the deal, and anyone who noticed Zoë lingering in the showers was too scared of her to call her on it. Water rations were not additive for couples showering together, partly because the water ran cold after ten minutes anyway and took at least five to reheat for the next occupant.

Simon's fingers ran through Mal's hair, massaging his scalp as he worked the shampoo into a lather. Mal groaned with pleasure and bent his knees a little so Simon would have an easier reach. He felt Simon lean against his back, kiss his shoulder and rest the top of his head there. Then Simon's hands fell out of Mal's hair and he hooked his arms under Mal's shoulders, embracing him. Quickly, Mal finished rinsing his own hair, then took Simon's hand and pulled him in front for a hug.

"Nightmare still with you?"

"Just tired," Simon lied.

Mal took the soap from Simon and lathered his hands, ready to take his turn bathing Simon. He looked with wonder at the beautiful man before him, resisting the urge to ditch the soap and shower Simon with kisses. Simon had only two scars on his body – both from gunshot wounds and both he'd attained since knowing Mal. Most of Mal's scars came from before he met Simon. Simon was so skilled at sewing him up that hardly any wound left a scar these days.

With Simon still pressed against him, Mal figured he'd start at the back of the shoulders and work his way down. Contrary to normal, Simon stayed molded to Mal as much as possible while Mal bathed him, turning and shifting as directed. When they finished, Mal turned off the water and Simon pulled him into a long, languid kiss. Smiling into the kiss, Mal reached for a towel, and wrapped it around their joint waists, forcing their bodies together. That got Simon laughing too and he broke the kiss, biting Mal's arm lightly.

"If we start this now, you'll miss your thing."

Mal shrugged and nipped at Simon's lips again. "And if we stop? We need to Christian the new bed."

"We're not in the bed," Simon pointed out, pulling the towel free and polishing it over Mal's backside, creating a pleasant friction between their fronts. "How about we meet up there later tonight?"

"I like that plan," Mal agreed, stopping Simon's 'drying efforts' so he wouldn't have to start the day with a hard-on.

They dressed quickly and exited the shower hand-in-hand, Simon sucking coyly on two of Mal's fingers. Jayne leaned against the wall outside, his towel and shower caddy on the floor beside him, one hand on his bandaged hip. When he saw the two of them together, he groaned loudly.

"Had to be you two," Jayne grumbled, heading back to his bunk, keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself. Seeing Mal and Simon exit the shower together usually got Jayne stiff, and not being one to waste a quality image, it often sent him straight to his bunk. Jayne never wasted hot water jerking off. (He'd announced that once at the dinner table.)

"Jayne, you shouldn't be walking around," Simon gushed, rushing to his side and putting an arm under his shoulder.

"I wanted a real shower," Jayne complained. "Not saying your hands ain't gentle, Doc, but I'm tired of sponge baths."

"Fine. Take a shower," Simon conceded. "But sit on the bench and be careful."

Jayne kept hobbling in the direction of his bunk and Simon looked at Mal pleadingly.

"Jayne," Mal called. "Stop walking before you give Simon a heart attack. On account of your injury you can take an extra five minutes 'til the tank runs cold."

Jayne paused, snarling at Mal. "Takes more than five minutes from this point."

Mal rolled his eyes and shrugged at Simon. He'd tried. Simon pursed his lips, hands on his hips.

"What? You need a jump start?" Simon mocked.

Jayne leered at him. "I might stand for a show."

Mal groaned and covered his eyes, not wanting to put on a show for Jayne or anyone else in his crew. When he looked again, Simon had Jayne pressed against the wall. Simon's eyes were deep with lust and seduction, while Jayne's were bugged out of his head in surprise.

"This is startin' to feel a little personal," Jayne grunted. "I don't really go for this kind of doctoring."

"Just giving you a hand," Simon teased coyly, reaching down and cupping Jayne through his pants. Now it was Mal's turn to have his eyes fall out of his sockets.

"Hey now," Mal cried, grabbing Simon's elbow and pulling him back. Simon stumbled against his chest, a wide smile on his face.

"I'm a jealous man," Mal told him seriously. "Don't make me shoot him."

Licking his lips sinfully, Simon wrapped his arms around Mal's neck and kissed him lightly. With a grunt, Jayne shuffled past them and into the shower.

"What was – why – what," Mal stuttered.

Simon laughed at him, wiggling his hips against Mal's. "Just giving him a little thrill for the ride."

"Looked to me like you were giving him the actual ride."

Simon took Mal's hand and they started walking toward the cargo bay. "I'm a doctor. I look after the needs of the crew."

Mal shot him an incredulous, angry, and disturbed look.

"Come on, Mal. We've been in the black for four months with no leave. A man like Jayne can be satisfied with his own fist for only so long."

This time, Mal stopped and balked. "You're not doin' him on the side are you?"

"No," Simon dismissed easily, wrapping his arms around Mal and walking backwards so their pace didn't slow. "Mal, I love you. Only you. There's no one on the side."

"Good," Mal said, nodding curtly. "Because I'm a jealous man."

"Yeah?" Simon teased. "You love me too?"

"I love you, too. Only you."

#


	7. Honey

**Honey **

Simon was the most fun drunk that Mal had ever known. Mal couldn't decide if he simply had a superhuman tolerance for alcohol or if he just happened to be an unnaturally coherent and mischievous drunk. Some of their best crime was conceived over beers when Mal (only half-matching Simon) was too wasted to remember what planet he was on. It was an accident the first time Mal got him drunk and rowdy, but he never let that bit of knowledge lay by the wayside.

It was just after Mal's birthday and Simon, Mal, and Jayne sat in a bar on Perth, ignoring the bad music and stacking empty shot glasses into a tower. They'd finally had enough tequila to stomach the bad fish and Jayne was ribbing Simon mercilessly about forgetting Mal's birthday. Mal hadn't expected anything anyway because they'd just spent their joint savings on a decent sized bed, but Simon got all defensive about it – meaning he got loud and started using big words.

"Fine! You want me to give him something?" Simon finally cried, jumping on his chair. "Mal, what do you want?"

Mal considered the belligerent Simon from behind his own drunken haze. He easily believed Simon would whip it out right there and only a small part of his brain was still functional enough to know that sucking Simon off in a public bar was a bad idea. A nice idea, but extremely bad…

"I kinda like that palm tree," Mal mumbled, pointing around Simon to the only piece of decoration in the bar. Jayne guffawed and whacked Mal in the arm so hard he thought he might fall over. Simon looked determinedly at the palm tree, then back at Mal and Mal started to think it may have been better to just blow him. He downed the shot of tequila sitting in front of him, but the glass was already empty, and he had a vague recollection that it wasn't the first time in ten minutes that he'd tried to drink from an empty glass.

"Alright," Simon said, looking around, clearly formulating a plan. He watched the servers and got a sense of the rhythm of the place faster than Mal would've thought possible. Then, with a swift pinch on Mal's cheek, and a wink, he set out on his mission, swiping the palm tree non-chalantly and even made it two steps into the street before one of the bouncers noticed. Exchanging plastered grins, Mal and Jayne launched over the table, starting a tussle, drawing the security back inside. Through the window, Mal saw Simon dashing down the street, four foot palm tree balanced awkwardly over his shoulder, leaving a trail of dirt from the exposed roots.

Once Simon was away and the fight clearly out of hand, Mal and Jayne made their escape. The world went spotty because Mal was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe and Jayne kept one hand on his elbow dragging him along. Following the dirt trail to a hardware store, they found a dumbfounded clerk and a pack of plastic bags and Jayne fell to one knee, gasping desperately for air through raucous laughter. Mal stumbled slightly, but adjusted his duster trying to look composed.

"You alright, sir?"

"He just wanted a bag for the tree," the man explained, his voice high-pitched and stunned. Like he couldn't believe the story his own self.

"Which…" Mal stumbled, but caught himself on the store clerk's shoulder. "Which way?"

The man pointed, and Jayne and Mal pulled each other upright and stumbled along. They only made it a few steps before Mal lost his balance again and passed out. When he woke up again, he was slung over Jayne's shoulder, bouncing with every tottering step Jayne took. He hoped like hell they were going back to Serenity. The motion churned his stomach and he vomited up the bad fish all over Jayne's backside. He heard Jayne cursing, but laughed until he passed out again.

#

Mal groaned as consciousness found him lying in bed, the taste of vomit still on his tongue. The world hovered in thick haze and he didn't really care how he arrived in his bed. He only cared that the sheets were warm and Simon was holding a cool cloth to his forehead. Blinking twice, Mal forced his eyes open to look on Simon's sympathetic face and started to wonder what had happened after the fifth tequila shot… and the pitcher of sangria. The pulsing of his bruised muscles suggested he'd been in a tussle, and when he noticed the palm tree behind Simon, things started falling into place. Patchy, but still.

"Simon? How come you're not hung over?" Mal grunted as Simon dipped the washcloth in cool water and pressed it to Mal's cheek.

"I went to medical school," Simon explained, lifting him under the shoulders. "Come on, sit up and drink some water."

"I like the palm tree." Mal remarked as Simon pulled him upright. "Si-si, I need something for this hangover."

"Oh, honey, you're not hung over," Simon cooed, kissing his nose. "You're still drunk."

"Mmm," Mal laughed, his head lolling against Simon's shoulder. "You called me honey."

"You like that?"

"Honey," Mal giggled and choked as he drank the water Simon offered. "Let's have sex. You and me."

Simon chuckled, wiping the water dribbling down Mal's chin. "You can never get it up when you're drunk."

"I can't," Mal agreed, holding up a finger to lecture. "But later… you and me, we'll have sex. Lots and lots. Lots and lots of birthday sex."

"We can do that," Simon agreed, a small smile creeping over his doctor's façade.

"And then we'll invite Jayne and have a threesome."

Simon rolled his eyes. "You are not going to let that go, are you?"

"And then we'll invite Kaylee and have a foursome and Inara and have a fivesome and Zoë and have a sexsome."

"A sexsome," Simon repeated mockingly.

"Sextet. Isn't sexy Latin for six?"

Simon laughed and tugged Mal's shoulder to keep him from slouching back on the pillow. "Is there a reason for inviting the group?"

"No. We can just do you and me. You and me." Mal's finger poked Simon's chest and his head lolled. All he saw was his Simon, beautiful Simon, and the halo of palm fronds. He reached his hand up to touch Simon's cheek, then poked one finger into Simon's open mouth, hooking it around Simon's teeth and tracing the tip of his tongue.

"And you could fuck me," Mal sighed ethereally. "Not my mouth but … me. Inside."

"Mal," Simon warned softly.

Mal groaned and fell out of Simon's arms, rolling onto his stomach, face flushing. "I'm sorry," he moaned. "I'm sorry, Simon."

"Don't be sorry," Simon cooed, stroking Mal's hair.

"Just forget what I said. Except about the birthday sex… and the waffles."

Simon smiled again, knowing Mal would not remember this conversation in the morning. "Waffles?"

"Waffles and honey. Because honey is sweet and sticky like you are after we have lots and lots of sex."

"I'm sure we can find a place that serves waffles."

Mal nodded, turning his head sideways to see Simon. His breath was hot against the pillow and Simon's crotch was right there by his nose.

"I wasn't going to ask for the palm tree."

"You don't want the palm tree?" Simon crooned, pretending to be hurt. "What do you want?"

With a bit of a jolt, Mal lurched sideways, burying his nose in Simon's crotch and sucking him through the fabric.

"Mal! Stop!" Simon cried, laughing and batting him away. "I don't want a saliva stain on my last pair of clean pants."

Mal giggled, but then his stomach churned and he heaved. With his superhuman doctoring skills, Simon managed to roll Mal sideways so he didn't choke, and directed the vomit into a bowl that seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Might have more than a saliva stain to worry about," Mal gasped apologetically, falling back on the pillow.

"Come on, you drunken idiot," Simon groaned, tipping Mal forward and giving him some fresh water to rinse his mouth.

"Si-si." Mal giggled softly. He only ever called Simon that when he was drunk. "You take good care of me."

"Well, it is your birthday."

#

Fortunately, Mal had started scheduling large vacation chunks around his birthday – ever since the crew had gotten wind of the date and taken to celebrating for weeks at a time. There were large swaths of the actual day that Mal couldn't recall, but he vaguely remembered requesting lots and lots of birthday sex, which Simon had supplied as soon as his hangover cleared.

At two weeks past, Serenity had finally taken a job that involved lots of hauling of heavy equipment and long hours of politicking. Exhausted after the long day, Mal climbed into the bunk he shared with Simon to find his lover already sleeping. He shed his clothes quickly and slithered under the covers on his side of the bed, not wanting to wake Simon.

"Night, Simon," he murmured, laying flat on his stomach, ready to pass out.

Simon inhaled sweetly, rolled over and climbed on top of Mal, groaning tiredly as he kissed along Mal's hairline. "Hey."

"I'm really tired tonight," Mal said, tilting his head to give Simon better access to his neck. Simon's kisses flitted over his skin as soft as moonlight, lulling him into peace.

"Ok," Simon sighed, nestling into Mal's arms and settling to sleep again. Mal and Simon had never gotten the hang of having 'sides' to the bed. They always ended up sleeping on each other. Mal inhaled Simon's sweet cologne, arousal fighting exhaustion. Who was he kidding? Flipping onto his back, Mal pressed his lips to Simon's forehead and used the pressure to coax Simon's lips toward his. With a laugh, Simon scooted upwards and devoured Mal's mouth, fighting for control of the kiss. Simon's tongue explored every nook and cranny of Mal's mouth, swiping against his teeth, tickling against his gums, pressing with plaintive queries and pleasured whimpers. When Simon gasped for air, Mal took control, kissing a line down Simon's neck to his collar bone, tasting the sweetness of his presence.

Simon's fingers laced with Mal's, his legs opening as much for balance as to press their groins together. He flicked his tongue against Mal's earlobe, then thrust his tongue into Mal's ear, eliciting that loin-blazing squeak that despite his best efforts, Mal could not suppress.

"I got you a present," Simon whispered hotly, sucking the pulse point on Mal's neck.

"I like the palm tree."

"I didn't steal this one." Simon painted his tongue down from Mal's shoulder until he found a nipple and latched on. Mal gasped, wanting to brace Simon's head in the position, but Simon's hands were still laced with Mal's and pinned him to the mattress, so all Mal could do was arch against Simon's teasing ministrations. Feather light teeth, flat of the tongue, soft breath, swirl, suck, soothing kiss.

"It's not a silk vest is it?" Mal joked, writhing with pleasure as Simon moved to the other nipple. "Because you know I can't pull off that look."

"It's something you really want," Simon taunted, lightly teething the tawny flesh.

"Fresh peaches?" Mal asked hopefully.

Simon stopped moving and considered Mal in surprise. "No… but I'm going to remember that."

Mal's head fell against the pillow and Simon finally released his hands. He sat straddled over Mal's hips, watching Mal's face thoughtfully while his hands worried the nipples his lips had abandoned.

"Shadow had the best peach groves in all the 'verse," Mal gushed, inhaling and arching simultaneously, his limbs limp from pleasure.

"I've never had a fresh peach."

"You have no idea what you're missing," Mal groaned, capturing Simon's hands before his chest burst. He kissed Simon's palms softly, and gazed at Simon through half-closed lids. "So what am I missing? What is this thing you got?"

Simon drummed his chest lightly and laughed. "I didn't mean for this to be twenty questions."

"Is it frivolous or practical?"

"I have some in the Infirmary for practical purposes," Simon admitted, tipping his head to the side. Then he dipped down and licked a fast line from Mal's belly button all the way up to his chin and into his mouth. Mal applied suction, not releasing Simon's tongue until both were desperate for air. Simon panted as he kissed a sloppy trail across Mal's cheek and continued in a heated whisper. "But it has practical applications in frivolous activities."

Mal leered approvingly. Simon nuzzled against him, the tension draining from his body.

"I've been reading up on it," Simon said his voice adopting that school-teacher tone. "I'm sure I could improvise a good technique, but you may have to direct me a little."

Mal pulled back and looked squarely at Simon, getting an image, but not wanting to presume. Simon kept his eyes averted, his head resting in the curve of Mal's neck, his fingers massaging Mal's chest.

"You hate when I micromanage."

"I'd say you earned this, but that would sound whorish," Simon shrugged. "Plus, it only cost eight bits … but then, the application I'm planning is nearly priceless."

Now Mal was certain of what Simon meant. He lifted Simon's chin, forcing their eyes to meet, reading confirmation in Simon's fear and uncertainty. "Simon, don't feel obliged –"

Before he could finish, Simon thrust his tongue into Mal's mouth. "I want to give this to you," Simon assured.

Mal closed his eyes and held Simon in the kiss, a mixture of joy, anticipation, and uncertainty washing over him as he felt the small tube pressed into his hand. He didn't have to ask what it was. He just squeezed his arms around Simon until there was no space left between them.

#


	8. Change the Ending

**Change the Ending**

As soon as Mal reached the bottom of the ladder, he could no longer remember why he came to his bunk in the first place. And given the sight that met him, he knew the reason would not come to him unless he left again very, very soon. Simon sat on the bed, cross-legged, half-naked, studiously examining a tube of lubricant which he held between two fingers. He had that inquisitive scientist look about him, his lips quirked, his head cocked, but he was still as a portrait, frozen more by a puzzling thought than Mal's intrusion. Mal froze too, not sure he even wanted to know what he'd just walked in on. His feet started taking him back up the ladder, but then stopped. All tact abandoning him, he turned to Simon and spoke.

"What are you doing?"

Simon looked at him, surprised to realize he was no longer alone in the bunk. "I just wanted to try …" he began, holding up the lube as explanation. "You always prep yourself and I wanted to…"

"You want ... to be on the bottom?"

"No, I …" Simon twiddled the tube between his fingers. "I wanted to be able to prep you. I thought I could practice."

Mal stared at him a moment, his jaw hanging open. "Well if you need a warm body to practice on, it don't have to be yourself."

"I know," Simon said quietly, looking forlornly at the tube. "I just … want to know what it feels like."

Mal nodded in understanding. Simon often worried about hurting Mal and occasionally sought every act in reciprocation as a means of assurance. He'd expected Simon to want to try bottoming eventually.

"Show me?" Simon requested, holding the tube out for Mal.

A bit surprised, Mal took the tube and turned it over in his hands. He looked ambivalently at Simon, knowing that his lover was not ready for the mix of pleasure-pain associated with what he asked – even if it was relatively mild. He looked up the ladder, then to the walls, seeking a way out.

"I can tell you if you're doin' it right, Simon. You don't have to feel everything I do. Especially if it's just for education purposes."

Simon crossed his arms, his chin jutting sternly. "Do you want to show me or shall I just sit down with a book and learn that way? I'm going to do this."

"Simon. This ain't a prostate exam," Mal protested, his heart twisting because he knew Simon had no idea what he was asking. He worried briefly that Simon might screw something up and tear himself if he tried what he was saying. Making the decision to help, Mal sighed and checked the time.

"Fine, I'll show you," Mal conceded. "But not now. Lunch is in half an hour."

"You never take more than a few minutes," Simon countered, annoyed at being stalled. Mal's heart hesitated.

"I know. Trust me, Simon. Please. There's a right way for me to show you this." He hoped. He desperately hoped. Mal cradled Simon's face with both hands and kissed his forehead, guilt and fear coursing through him.

"Tonight then," Simon insisted. "After supper."

Mal nodded reluctantly. "You trust me, Simon?"

Simon's brow quirked, confused by the question and Mal's hesitance. "I trust you."

#

Mal absolutely hated himself for agreeing to this. He was terrified that Simon would not understand – that Simon would tense up, freeze him out, and stop talking. He anticipated anything but understanding, and he only hoped his lesson worked.

When they got to their bunk, Mal pulled Simon into a desperate and sad kiss, fearing that after this night Simon would never trust him again. Simon's hands cradled Mal's chin, and he sank into the kiss without understanding. Then pushing Mal's face away from his, Simon looked at Mal with the innocent blue eyes of an eager student.

"I just want you to show me," Simon reminded him, resisting seduction, making it sound like the most innocuous request in all the 'verse. Mal reached for the buttons on Simon's vest and started undoing them.

"Mal, we're not –"

"Shh," Mal whispered, resting his forehead against Simon's as he slipped the vest off of Simon's shoulders and started working on his shirt. "You trust me, Simon."

"Yes."

"Then let me show you in a way that makes sense."

He placed Simon's hands on the buttons of his shirt and Simon started undressing him. Mal shuddered softly, as much from anxiety as pleasure. He could see Simon's hands shaking, both feeling and reflecting Mal's reticence.

"Mal I don't want – "

"I know what you want, Simon. Just the beginning."

Simon nodded, then slowly slid Mal's shirt off his shoulders and tugged it free of the hem of his pants so it could flutter to the floor.

"But you don't start reading a book and then not finish it."

"Mal," Simon whispered, stepping away, fearing Mal would prep him and just keep going. Mal grabbed Simon's elbow and jerked him close.

"I won't," Mal assured firmly. "Knowing the mechanics is one thing. But if you want to understand this, you've got to come to an end. Some end. All I can think to do is change the ending."

"Mal…"

Mal tilted Simon's head in his hand and painted his tongue down the side of Simon's neck. Simon groaned and arched against him.

"I know what you like," Mal whispered hotly in his ear, his hands moving swiftly to remove Simon's pants. He could tell Simon was still being analytical, because he wasn't kissing back. But if Simon was to understand a finger prep as anything but uncomfortable, Mal had to work him past that. Using the gentle presses of his lips against Simon's chest, he pushed Simon toward the bed and Simon reclined easily, propped on his elbows, his head tipping back as Mal sucked and teased at his nipples. Straddling Simon's hips, Mal snaked his hands between Simon and the mattress, giving Simon's ass a firm squeeze.

Masking a flinch with a giggle, Simon pulled away from Mal's lips and shimmied more fully onto the bed. Mal crawled forward until they were resting hip-to-hip again, grinding his clothed groin against Simon's naked one.

"Mal, no," Simon gasped, leaning away, pushing Mal off. "No belts."

Mal looked down in frustration. He'd nearly forgotten. Sitting back politely, he placed Simon's hand on the buckle. "Take off as much as you like."

With an amused but weak smile, Simon removed the belt, the pants, and then the underwear for good measure. "Just in case," he grinned, but Mal shook his head.

"Not about me right now. It's about you."

Simon's fingers traced over a scar on Mal's abdomen as he thoughtfully tried to get his head back into the reason they were naked. "How should I …"

"On your stomach," Mal answered, his throat tight. Simon flipped onto his stomach and Mal snuggled against Simon's side, using his elbow to prop his head up so he could look over Simon's gorgeous body. Simon watched him alertly, waiting for the lesson to begin, but Mal hesitated. He traced the curves of Simon's face, pulling him into a remorseful kiss that begged forgiveness. Simon returned the kiss more out of obligation than want.

With gentle strokes, Mal traced the edge of Simon's shoulder blade, down his back, and over his butt. Simon flinched again. Immediately retracting his hand, Mal sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, resting elbows on his knees.

"I can't do this."

"No, Mal, please," Simon begged earnestly, jumping up and forcing his way onto Mal's lap. He lifted Mal's chin, holding it up with a kiss, then guided Mal's hands around his waist as he settled, half kneeling on the edge of the bed, half sitting on Mal. "Please."

"Simon –"

Simon pressed his fingers against Mal's lips. "Please."

With brazen gentleness, Simon took Mal's right hand, coated each finger with more lube than needed, then guided it right to his opening. His muscles flexed when Mal applied pressure, but he bit his lip, rested his head on Mal's shoulder, and asked again. "Please."

Mal kissed Simon's ear because it was the only part of Simon currently within reach. Using one hand to massage Simon's side, he whispered "Relax" then pressed into Simon with his first finger.

Simon gasped at the intrusion, his muscles clenching briefly around Mal, and they both waited. Impatiently, Simon wiggled his hips, encouraging Mal to do something, so Mal hooked his finger and stroked against the prostate gland. Simon groaned and started riding the finger, seeking the stimulation over and over. Mal could feel Simon hardening against him, leaking hot and wet against his stomach.

"There's more," Simon murmured. It was a question. He was still analyzing and cataloging and it made Mal all the more cautious about moving on.

"There's more?" Simon asked again, stopping their rhythm.

"Yes," Mal conceded, unable to meet Simon's inquisitive eye.

"Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Mal added a second finger, and though Simon squirmed uncomfortably at first, they fell into a gentle thrusting rhythm again. Mal still felt deep foreboding and his wrist strained at the awkwardness of their position, sitting on the side of the bed. He shifted Simon slightly on his lap, trying to rebalance and get his arm into a position of better mobility. Simon's torso molded against his, soft sighs and pants escaping. Gaining confidence, Mal corkscrewed his fingers, then scissored once, twice, stretching Simon's opening for an end that would never come. Simon gasped and clutched Mal, his rhythm stopping. Mal tried removing his fingers, but Simon was clenched so tightly around him that his knuckles couldn't escape without forcing it.

"Simon," Mal whispered, tapping Simon's back to get his attention. "Simon, relax."

Simon relaxed just enough for Mal to pull free. Guilt constricted Mal's heart as he held Simon and saw the embarrassed flush of frustration on his lover's cheeks. Mal wiped his hand on the bedspread and stroked Simon's back soothingly, unwilling to talk. Then, pressing his lips against Simon's shoulder, he created enough distance to start kissing down Simon's chest. He lifted Simon slightly, then laid him down on his back, dipping his head down to cover Simon's torso with kisses.

"Mal, I don't –"

"Trust me, Simon."

With a resigned sigh, Simon's body went limp and he turned his head sideways and let Mal continue. Mal's heart crumbled, but his resolve stood firm and he licked forceful patterns over Simon's chest. The disconnected look on Simon's face shattered him too much to take part in the moment, but he was determined for Simon to come – to remember what pleasure and love their previous act was tied to. Setting two fingers on each hip, Mal pressed Simon's thighs apart with a long guiding stroke and lapped at Simon's softened cock. He placed a polite kiss on each of Simon's balls, delighted when he heard Simon laughing despite himself.

Their eyes met briefly, but Simon ducked his head, still ashamed for tensing up before. However, he remained propped on his elbows, and Mal knew he was watching. With a few flicks of his tongue, he coaxed Simon to hardness, his hands running feather-light trails up and down Simon's legs. Normally, Simon offered direction when Mal sucked him off, but today he just let his head fall back and surrendered to Mal's will. Mal rolled them side-ways and cupped Simon's ass with one hand, using the other to massage Simon's pelvis. It was uncomfortable for Mal, but necessary for what he had in mind. Simon took advantage of the new position and curled his upper body around so he could hold onto Mal's shoulders. Simon panted his name, thrusting into Mal's mouth, body shaking, not close to coming, but determined to get there as quickly as possible.

Determinedly, Mal shifted his right hand so that his fingers rested again at Simon's opening. Simon whimpered at the increased stimulation, then gasped as Mal pressed two fingers inside. Feeling Simon tense, Mal went straight for the sweet spots, both inside Simon's body and out, eliciting a cry of surprise and pleasure from Simon. He felt Simon wriggling against him, trapped between Mal's mouth at his front and fingers in his ass. He couldn't escape one without thrusting into the other. Mal pressed his thumb against Simon's balls, then stroked the soft skin just behind it and Simon yelped again. Three strokes later, Simon's muscles clenched around Mal's fingers and he shot white hot spurts into Mal's mouth. Simon howled raggedly, biting the pillow to muffle the cry. When he felt Simon's body go limp, he pulled his fingers free and glided them soothingly up Simon's back, but he waited for Simon's cock to completely soften before he let it fall from his mouth.

"Simon," Mal whispered, checking to see if Simon had passed out, because he hadn't moved or made a sound in minutes. Simon stared blankly, his face stunned, his breathing shallow. Tentatively, Mal kissed his lips, but Simon didn't react. Concerned, he rolled Simon onto his back, then rested his cheek on Simon's chest, his fingers ghosting over Simon's shivering skin, waiting for a response. No matter how much Mal knew Simon had needed to associate a pleasurable ending with their earlier prep, he still felt like he had somehow violated the man. Maybe it wasn't Simon trembling. Maybe it was him.

"Please forgive me," Mal mouthed against Simon's chest, though he could not vocalize the words. He looked up at Simon whose head was tilted catatonically skyward, his mouth hanging open. Was he confused? Processing? Forgiving?

Mal reached out for Simon's hands, hoping for a gentle squeeze, but Simon just shook him off until only two fingers remained in Mal's desperately seeking grip. Simon pulled again and Mal's resolve melted, letting Simon free. But then Simon's fingertips hooked on Mal's thumb and he thrust them back into Mal's fist. When he stopped, Mal squeezed his fingers and looked up. Simon's lips moved, and his eyes stared fervently ahead as if reading answers out of the air. When Mal felt the slight press of Simon's fingers scissoring, he realized that Simon was repeating the motion he'd experienced earlier, using Mal's fist as a test bed. Hope surfaced that Simon had in fact understood Mal's lesson, but if so, why wasn't he talking?

"Wanna try it?" Mal offered when Simon scissored his fingers again and twisted his hand. Simon shook his head vacantly, and kept staring forward. Then he stopped moving again. Mal released Simon's fingers and took his whole hand again, and this time Simon did not shake him off. The residual of Simon's cum was bitter on his tongue, and again his heart stung with the sense that he'd somehow violated Simon because he didn't stop when Simon had asked. He closed his eyes, clinging to his lover, silently begging for forgiveness.

A soft breath rippled through Simon and he coughed once, finally moving his hand to wipe the stunned look off his face. "Wow," was all he said.

"Simon?"

Simon looked at him, with an expression that could only be described as 'blown away.'

"Wow," he murmured, his voice strained, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Not knowing how to take that, Mal rested his head on Simon's chest again and waited. Gently, Simon's arms wrapped around him, and his fingers danced lightly in Mal's hair.

"That was –" Simon stuttered. "I – overwhelmed – so much – wow."

With a few intentional blinks, Simon considered Mal again, and must have noticed the fear staining his features, because he cradled Mal's chin and pulled him into a kiss.

"Hey," Simon cooed, planting a trail of soothing kisses across Mal's cheeks and eyelids. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'm … Sorry, I think I lost the capacity for coherent speech for a moment. That was … sensational is the wrong word, but it'll come to me. Too many sensations at once."

Mal pressed his lips against Simon's, intense relief coursing through him. They were kisses of assurance, not passion, and Mal knew he was shaking. Simon hugged him close, then rested against the pillow again, keeping Mal against his chest. His eyes were darting to and fro, his mind still processing and trying to give words to the experience.

"I came," Simon reasoned. "You were inside me…" Simon's breathing quickened and Mal cringed at the bewilderment he heard in Simon's voice. "You were… that's what you meant."

Mal nodded, grateful that Simon was making connections, even if it wasn't clear what he was connecting just yet.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I won't ask for that again," Simon finally said.

Mal pressed his eyes shut and nodded. "Not your thing?"

"It was the best blow job you've ever given me," Simon breathed. "But I … it's confusing."

Mal flipped onto his stomach, so he could look at Simon while they talked. He threw one leg casually over Simon's so that their hips rested together. "Why are you confused?"

"Because," Simon started, then paused. He pulled Mal's hand over his heart, and pressed their palms flat, lacing their fingers together. "Because it … hurt … but it was okay … and I liked…"

Mal nodded, recognizing the fear he'd predicted. "It is okay," Mal assured. "We're okay."

Simon nodded, but it was clear to Mal that Simon did not like the duality of pleasure-pain, even as mild and brief as the exposure had been.

"You don't not jump into a lake because the water's cold," Mal explained. "You jump in and then you get used to it, and you have a nice swim."

Simon pressed his lips together, understanding the analogy. Simon hated when Mal used analogies, but Mal had trouble sometimes speaking in cold academics – at least when it came to sex.

"You just seem to enjoy it so much," Simon mused. "I thought, maybe something …"

"Maybe I like that sort of thing," Mal shrugged. "Maybe I like the thought of you inside me, and that makes the feel of anything – even my own fingers prepping – that makes it amazing."

Simon nodded again, his finger tracing his ear thoughtfully. Mal smiled at how cute Simon looked when he was thoughtful. He took Simon's hand and sucked two of Simon's fingers into his mouth, grinning as Simon reflexively scissored them when pulling out.

"You wanna try?" Mal asked. "Your fingers in me?"

Simon shook his head again. "Maybe in an hour," he mumbled tiredly, turning and pulling Mal to spoon against his back. "You wore me out. I'm still seeing stars."

Mal wriggled against Simon, reaching for the sheet, chilled as the cold ship's air dried the perspiration from their skin.

"Maybe I will ask for that again," Simon murmured thoughtfully, then laughed, flexing his ass against Mal's groin.

Mal kissed the back of Simon's neck, snuggling against him. He hadn't expected that from Simon and all he could saw was "Wow."

#


	9. Homesick

**Homesick**

River sat cross-legged on the high catwalk, resting one hand on the lower rail as she gazed into the nothingness. She had on a loose yellow shirt, black shorts, and a pair of blue and brown dinosaur slippers that had once belonged to Wash. Simon strolled in, appreciating the relative silence, and stood beside her, leaning on the top rail. She tipped her head against his leg and sighed wearily. She'd been up all night again, writing furiously in a notebook that she refused to let him read.

"Is it silly to celebrate the anniversary of a first date?" Simon asked, if only to break the ice. His and Mal's anniversary was coming up, theoretically, and the question was starting to plague him.

"For you maybe," River answered. "Not for him."

"Are we really so different?"

"Yes, but that's not the reason."

Simon waited a beat, surprised by her matter-of-fact answers. "Are you going to tell me the reason or do I have to guess?"

River sighed and looked up at him patronizingly. "For you it is the anniversary of the first date. For him, it is the anniversary of the day he fell in love with you."

"I cared enough," Simon stuttered, one finger tugging his ear. "I asked him out."

"But you didn't fall in love until three months later," River pointed out, exasperated at having to explain such trifles to him. Simon shot her a withering look.

"I didn't realize you kept such an accurate log of our courtship."

"It's easy to remember the day. We drank and you danced on the table."

"That wasn't – that was your twenty-first birthday!"

River wasn't listening to him. Her eyes gazed into the past. "You danced and fell when the table broke. Then we ran down the street and climbed on a statue of General Montegra."

"I seem to recall you passing out on the General's lap."

"I did," River agreed simply, her voice childlike with innocence. "But you were too drunk to carry me. Captain came and brought us home. He gave us gallons of water, then carried me to bed. You and he stayed up in the lounge talking all night. You fell asleep in his arms."

"I did," Simon acknowledged distantly. It was the first time Simon had ever fallen asleep in Mal's arms and he had never forgotten the safety of that place – like home. "And that's when you say…"

"Next morning, you woke up. You were safe and I was safe. And that's when you knew."

Simon nodded, realizing for the first time, closing his eyes and feeling safe and warm all over again. "That's when I knew."

Their eyes snapped to the present as Mal entered the cargo bay noisily, with Zoë close on his heels. Simon looked at his sister, remembering the day he'd brought River onboard Serenity. River had always been safe with Mal. Since before he even knew her name. From the moment Mal saw her in that box, she was under his protection. He saw her naked and vulnerable and he immediately assumed the worst of Simon; and he stood up to protect River.

She had always been a person to him. A girl – a young woman even – who needed to be free to live. Mal yearned to protect her from the soul-stealing experiences that he'd had in the war. He called her 'Little One' and treated her with kindness. He cared enough to discipline her. He trusted her with chores around the ship even when everyone else thought she was too crazy and volatile. He made sure that Simon had medicine for her and kept her safe from the Alliance. Simon knew that if anything ever happened to him, she would be safe with Mal. That's why he'd trusted Mal enough to ask him out.

River stood slowly, and leaned on the railing next to her brother, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Simon?"

"Mmm?"

"I've been thinking about leaving Serenity."

Simon's eyes crinkled, but he just rested his head against the top of River's, increasing their connection. "And going where?"

"Somewhere," she answered wistfully. "I see you and you're happy. And I know I can't find that here."

Simon's heart shuddered with regret. He had been neglecting River ever since he and Mal started sharing a bunk. He felt the distance growing between them every day, and hadn't known what to do. But when he'd left Osiris to rescue her, he'd promised himself that she would always come first, so with a heavy heart, he offered. "Do you want me to leave with you?"

"You're happy here. I don't know where I can be happy. Don't know what I would do."

"Whatever you want, River," Simon assured. She gave him a disapproving look for the platitude, so he continued. "There's a rim planet named Kerry. The settlement is basic, but there is a privately-sponsored astronomy facility there. They chose it because there's minimal light pollution."

Simon twiddled his thumbs and caught himself before he rambled too much. "Kerry's in a wide orbit and that makes it convenient to most of the other rim worlds at some point during the year. A lot of fine arts pass through their ports. Serenity's routes often cross nearby, so we'd be able to supply your meds still. And I could visit all the time."

"You've thought about me leaving?"

Simon shook his head, looking at his clasped fingers, feeling suddenly lost as his future turned to mud. "I thought about us leaving together. I thought that if we ever left Serenity you might be happy there."

"I like being on a space ship."

"I know," Simon answered remorsefully, wondering how he would break the news to Mal. They watched silently as Jayne joined Mal and Zoë and they started pointing at different things that needed moving in the bay. Then Mal trotted up the stairs toward the engine room, winking at Simon as he passed. Simon forced a smile, but Mal was too busy to see through it.

"Are you going out to celebrate?" River asked.

"What do I have to celebrate?"

"Your anniversary."

Simon shrugged. "We don't have anything planned."

"Going out drinking?" River teased and Simon only shrugged again.

"Don't drink too much," she warned.

"You know me."

"I do," River smiled and Simon laughed just a little. River hugged him lightly and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry I'll miss it."

#

The night before River left, Mal and Simon made love over and over. Neither man much felt like sex, but they took turns sucking and jerking each other off until they were both too tired to fight the coming of morning. Simon was sad for River leaving and Mal was sad for Simon. Both wore masks, though neither could hide.

The next day, they loaded the mule in silence, trudging through the motions, letting the others say their good-byes. Kaylee was tearful, but encouraging. Inara offered a gift of a few dresses and some fancy soap. Jayne gave River a quarter-bottle of whiskey and warned her not to finish it all in one night. When Zoë teased him about it being mostly empty, Jayne defensively said he was just looking out for her best interests, because River was just the type to try to finish it all at once. They all laughed and had a round of shots before Simon, River, and Mal climbed onto the mule to take River away.

They arrived in town at a gray-brick apartment building that had six units and three stories. River was on the second floor. The landlord met them outside and he seemed respectable enough. He escorted Simon and River through the apartment for an inspection while Mal reluctantly set to work unloading, shouldering River's meager belongings, making sure he could get all the medicines on the first trip.

"Good place?" Mal asked when he met Simon in the stairwell.

"I've seen worse," Simon answered. His tone was smooth and even, meaning he'd buried his emotions as deep as possible so he could get through the day.

"I got it," Mal protested as Simon tried taking a box out of his hands. "There's another few bags downstairs."

"Two trips won't kill us."

It only took the two trips. When they finished and the landlord left them, Mal leaned against the wall while Simon and River sat in the middle of the floor talking animatedly over what furniture she might buy and what was within her budget. After about ten minutes, Mal cleared his throat.

"I should get going," he said lamely, avoiding a real good-bye with excuses. "We got a job here."

Simon jumped up immediately to walk him out. (Simon was always proper like that.) "What time do you need me back on the ship?" Simon asked, his eyes hopeful. "Late tonight? Early tomorrow?"

Mal shook his head swallowing the lump in his throat. "We're leaving in an hour, soon as this job is set up."

Simon's face fell, but Mal caught his chin.

"I packed you a bag," he said hoarsely. "It's in the other room. Serenity'll be back next week."

Simon's jaw dropped in surprise and he choked out incoherent squeaks of protest. Mal placed a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"Get River settled in," Mal encouraged. "I'll be back in a week."

With a grateful smile, Simon lifted on his tip-toes and kissed Mal good-bye. They hugged briefly, and then Simon skipped back to help River, eager to absorb every moment he could with her. His heart already breaking, Mal turned and left for home.

#

The first night was torture and loneliness, the second anger and remorse. By the third, Mal was so weak from malnourishment that his body quivered. They were running radio silent and it drove him mad not hearing Simon's voice. He just kept reading Simon's gorram sonnet over and over until he had it memorized, because it was the only preserved bit of Simon he had. At one point, he tried spraying Simon's cologne on the pillow, but that had made things worse. They had a drop to make on Whitefall the next day and he needed to get some food in him and sleep or things would not go half as smooth as they needed for not having a medic on board.

Mal scoured through the cabinets of the Infirmary, looking for any medicine that might cure the ache twisting his heart. It felt like someone reached a hand inside his chest and was wringing out his insides. Tingly, queasy, distracted, anxious, restless… none of the medicines he knew seemed to treat that and none of the ones he didn't know had labels in plain English or any other useful language! He slammed a bottle of pills on the counter and rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted, but unable to sit still. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Simon.

"Mal?"

Inara's voice startled him and he yelped softly. She peaked through the Infirmary door, her black floral and lace robe cinched conservatively closed.

"Hey, 'Nara, you need something?"

"No, I just heard you come down here. Are you …?"

"I'm sick," Mal answered instantly, looking into the cabinet with defeat. "Don't know what medicine might help… I need Simon."

"I'm sure you do," Inara acknowledged quietly.

Mal ignored her and started rooting through the drawers too.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered sweetly. "It could settle your stomach – help you sleep."

"I had tea," he retorted, shoving the drugs back into place and slamming the drawer. There was nothing here for him. Just the memory of Simon and that was tearing him worse here than anywhere.

"Do you want to talk?"

"I ain't pining!" he bellowed a little too sharply, and brushed past her to escape. He didn't want her counsel because he knew she wouldn't understand. She left folk all the time who were pining after her. Mal imagined there was no man in the 'verse who actually left her hanging. No one she loved.

#

By the fifth night, they'd gotten the cargo from Whitefall with only a few more scratches than would have been ideal. Mal had forced himself to eat and was queasy and unsettled. He argued with Jayne and they'd tussled in the cargo bay – Jayne understanding that Mal simply needed a fight to blow off steam. Afterwards, Mal stalked onto the bridge and found Zoë already sitting there, lazily monitoring their course from the pilot's chair. Firmly ignoring her, Mal took the opposite chair, his head dropping to the side thinking of River. Her scent was embedded on the bridge and driving him completely crazy. As much as he was glad she had the courage to leave, he didn't want her to go. But she had to learn for herself that the 'verse was a cruel and unfriendly place. And she had to take Simon with her. His Simon. His heart.

"Sir." Zoë only spoke to acknowledge his presence, not to initiate a conversation. She gazed out into the black, letting him choose whether or not to speak.

Mal considered her thoughtfully. If Wash had asked her to leave, would she have? He could have asked her and she would have answered, but it was not their way. They did not have deep heart to heart discussions.

"Did you check the cargo?"

"It will keep 'til we touch ground," she answered directly. She was right. They had only left Simon for a week, and then they were going back. Mal could live a week without Simon. He'd lived without Simon for years before. In just a few more days… But what if Simon decided to stay with River? What then?

"You look a little homesick, sir."

He appreciated that she didn't say 'lovesick', but still was taken aback by the directness of the statement. "I am home."

"Are you?"

Mal shuddered as he finally recognized that twist of angst churning up his insides as the same homesickness that struck him when he first left Shadow. It didn't make sense. Serenity was his home. People came and went as they pleased. But Serenity was his home. Although it no longer seemed complete without Simon.

#

A half day out from Kerry, Mal was surprised to be getting a wave, and hoped the job had not gone south. He was pleased when River's face appeared on vid, clean and refreshed, looking every bit like she'd found her way back to the hoity-toity core life. Her hair flowed in soft waves around her face, just covering a pair of earring Inara had given her. She wore a casual shirt, but it was new and gleaming with polished life.

"Found you," she chirped, smiling broadly at Mal with that same innocence she'd always maintained. She and Simon had the same smile.

"Hey, River. I was wondering how we were gonna contact you."

"I'm an astronomer now," River explained. "I watch the sky."

"Is your brother around?"

"He's at the hospital. He goes every day so he can help."

Mal heart twisted in fear because he knew Simon was never more in his element than when he was doctoring. "He likes it there?"

River blanched, but then covered it. "I don't go there. You're landing tomorrow? I can make you breakfast!"

Mal's head dropped, desperate for Simon. "We need to finish the job when we land, but how about supper tomorrow."

"I won't tell him you're coming. I'll tell him you're going to be a day late."

"Don't you dare, Little One," Mal warned. He figured that if Simon were doing half as good as he was, his heart would still stop at such news.

"Why not? It's a good surprise."

Mal considered River carefully, his jaw flapping. She'd been with Simon every day this week. Was it possible that Simon hadn't missed him at all?

#

They landed on Kerry just after sunrise, and immediately started pulling the cargo together for delivery. Mal was on the bridge, arranging the paperwork with the port authorities while Zoë and Jayne were in the cargo bay loading up the mule. When he heard the pounding on the back door, Mal immediately drew his gun, cursing the scavengers who might take his cargo and delay his reunion with Simon. He crept stealthily through the galley, peaking out across the catwalks. Jayne had his gun drawn and was edging toward the door while Zoë took up position behind one of the bulkheads. Jayne peaked out at their visitor, then tipped open the door. To everyone's surprise, Simon stepped in, looking cool, calm, and collect – or at least trying to. He nodded politely to Jayne, waved shyly to Zoë, and smiled when he looked up on the catwalk and caught Mal's eye. He walked nonchalantly to the stairs, his destination clear. Surprised, but delighted to see him, Mal finally got his feet in gear and walked toward Simon, matching his casual pace. His heart somersaulted at the notion that Simon had been too impatient to see him to wait until supper time. Their pace quickened, each man trying to hide the skip in his step, but unable to keep the broad smiles spilling across their faces.

Finally, Mal holstered his weapon, walked right into Simon's arms, and kissed him full on the lips, right there, in front of everyone. Their tongues crossed, consuming the world around them. The kiss was not desperate and hungry, but rather filled with the grateful relief of reunion. Simon tasted minty fresh, his sweet cologne almost suffocating because it was so real and close. The quiver in Mal's stomach settled immediately, the homesickness remedied by Simon's presence.

It was Jayne's forceful 'ahem' that caused them to break the kiss, and Simon laughed embarrassedly, burying his face in Mal's shoulder. Playfully, Mal hefted Simon under one arm, trying to carry him up the stairs which only made Simon laugh harder, gripping Mal's clothes so he didn't fall while his feet sought ground.

"Excuse us," Mal said politely, tottering forward a few steps, but unable to balance given that Simon could not be carried under one arm as easily as a two-by-four. He dropped Simon on his back, catching his head so he didn't get hurt, but Simon was sprawled over five steps and Mal landed hard on his knee to keep from falling on top. Joy bubbled through Mal and he sat on the stairs next to Simon, pulling him to sitting, both laughing uncontrollably.

"Sir!" Zoë called, lifting her arm and pointing to her wrist to indicate time. Gathering himself up, Mal left Simon on the stairs, both of them smiling at each other like loons. He loved Simon and he could not stop laughing. As he climbed onto the mule, Inara met Simon on the catwalk and they spoke animatedly, falling into the rhythm of home. Mal smiled as they left and as soon as they were away, Jayne smacked him upside the head, just so he'd be pissed enough to finish the job.

#

"Simon!" Mal called as soon as they set foot in the cargo bay again. Simon was not on the catwalk. Leaving Zoë to store their gear, Mal dashed to the Infirmary, wondering if Simon would be grumbling and undoing the mess Mal had made looking for a cure for lovesickness, but Simon wasn't there either.

"Simon?" he called again as he climbed the stairs and went to the galley. Jayne was already eating a sandwich and boiling water.

"Jayne, have you seen Simon?"

"Nope."

Jayne had an annoying way of ignoring him when he wanted help. Mal sighed in frustration.

"You know River is making us a huge meal," Mal chided sternly.

"In three hours," Jayne pointed out, polishing off his sandwich and scouring the cabinets for a soup packet. They needed to resupply before evening.

"Maybehaps Simon went off to help prepare this feast."

"Maybe," Mal agreed, disappointed. He glanced through the hall to the bridge. Maybe Simon and Inara were talking in her shuttle? But no, because they would've heard the back door open. Maybe their bunk…

With an anticipatory smile, Mal skipped (in a very manly fashion) to his bunk and climbed down. Simon lay in the middle of the bed fast asleep, the covers pulled to his chin. But most inviting was the pile of Simon's clothes folded neatly on the chair, underwear on top, making it perfectly clear that he was naked under the sheets. With hardly a thought, Mal shed his belt and boots as he walked toward Simon, trying to decide just how to wake him. All that was visible was Simon's face. Up close, Mal could see the tear streaks on Simon's cheeks and the slight crinkle of his eyes telling Mal that he'd cried himself to sleep.

"Please don't be saying good-bye," Mal whispered pleadingly, swallowing tears of his own.

Softly, he caressed Simon's cheek and a gentle smile fell over Simon's lips. His eyes opened just long enough to focus on Mal, then closed again peacefully and a happy sob escaped him.

With a devious grin, Mal went to the foot of the bed, knelt by Simon's feet, and burrowed his head under the covers. It was amazing how in the space of a week he'd forgotten how clean and spicy Simon smelled all over. Cradling Simon's right foot, he ran his tongue against the instep, feeling Simon's toes curl and hearing a soft giggle from the north. He kissed teasingly across the top of Simon's foot, then nipped the tip of each toe. Simon loved having his toes sucked on, but Mal was teasing. He swirled his tongue around the littlest toe and crawled under the sheets to work his way up, leaving Simon wanting more. He sucked on Simon's ankle sloppily, then brushed his cheek against it, the spit lubricating his skin as he nuzzled up Simon's legs, swishing his face side to side so that Simon would spread for him. Simon giggled again, his stillness speaking infinite patience, while the tenting of the sheet spoke otherwise. Using sweeping strokes of his middle finger, Mal parted Simon's thighs, and tickled under his knees. The air under the blanket was humid and thick with sex, or want of it. The only light and air came from above because Simon had lifted the sheet to watch.

Mal kissed the inside of Simon's leg, running his tongue along the crease of the hip joint. Simon's balls jerked and slapped against his cheek and his cock danced, leaking hot fluid, vying for attention. Mal teethed lightly over Simon's balls, pressing the flat of his tongue in just the right way to get them dancing in his mouth.

"Mal," Simon gasped and Mal's heart leapt. How he had missed the way Simon said his name.

With a platonic string of kisses, Mal bypassed Simon's shaft and nuzzled circles against his pelvis making Simon buck and thrust against his neck. Desperately, Simon snaked a hand between the sheets and clutched Mal's hair. But instead of pushing down, he was pulling up.

Abandoning his plan of going slow, Mal shimmied through the covers, laying prostrate over Simon, and sinking into a languid, deep kiss. Simon's hands were on him, ripping at the hem of his shirt and shoving it as high as he could so that their stomachs rested skin to skin. Mal inhaled and arched against Simon. He felt the yearning in Simon's touch and the desperation in his kiss. Simon's fingers massaged small circles between Mal's shoulder blades, kneading away the heartache. He sucked Simon's lips, biting hungrily, cradling Simon's face gently as their hips ground together. They were both too lost in kissing to finish removing Mal's clothes at the moment.

Simon kneaded soft fingers against Mal's spine working down. Finally, his hands slipped past the waistband of Mal's pants, cupping his ass, and giving it a firm squeeze. Mal nearly sobbed with need.

"Please Simon," he begged, aching with want. Simon's tongue flicked in his ear and Mal yelped in delight, feeling a spurt of pre-cum as his cock jumped in response. When had he lost control of this encounter?

Simon's hands slid out of the confines of Mal's pants and the two rolled on the bed until Simon was on top straddling Mal's hips. The sheet fluttered to the floor, forgotten, revealing Simon's nakedness and Simon went straight for the buttons of Mal's pants, applying teasing pressure as he worked.

"Shirt off," he grunted when it became apparent that Mal was more than content to lie there staring at him. Fingers shaking, Mal managed to open the first three buttons before Simon got impatient and yanked the shirt over his head. Simon was no less gentle tugging Mal's pants off. His eyes devoured Mal, his hands moving in long strokes. Mal nearly died as Simon kissed around his nethers, teasing with his tongue and avoiding Mal's cock in the same torturous way Mal had done. Where were Simon's hands?

Mal's eyes closed in desperation, his head writing against the pillow as Simon's tongue hit that sweet spot behind Mal's balls. Any moment Simon would be inside of him. He lifted his head and reached out his hands. Where were Simon's –

Simon's tongue swiped across Mal's slit and Mal cried out as his head fell back against the pillow. Wicked teasing hun dan! He felt Simon caressing his pelvis with the back of his fingers in soothing strokes and a trail of kisses up to his naval as Simon shifted position. Finally a hand closed around his shaft, warm and slick.

Shocked by the sensation, Mal's eyes jerked open and he watched, mesmerized as Simon massaged and coated his cock with lubricant and reclined back, impaling himself on Mal. As the first inch slipped inside Simon's opening, Mal groaned at the squeeze of the tight heat. He saw the sting on Simon's face, but also the lust in his darkened eyes and the determination of his set jaw. Mal had never been in Simon's body before and his heart could not find a rhythm for the awesome sensation.

Resting his hands on Simon's hips, Mal helped Simon maintain balance as he slowly sank, drawing Mal deeper and deeper. Simon gripped Mal's thighs for support, his teeth gritting even as he smiled. Mal figured that Simon had been planning this for days, by the way his muscles were loose and ready. Finally, skin slapped skin and Simon slumped, exhausted, on Mal's lap. Almost immediately, though, Simon rose to his knees and dropped onto Mal again. They both shuddered.

"Simon?"

"Keep going," he gasped, huskily.

It was a taxing position for a first timer and too far from Simon's face to whisper soothes in his ear. Though he loved being face to face, Mal worried for Simon. Sitting up, Mal shifted Simon's legs and turned his body, twisting around while still inside of him. The pull and pleasure brought stars to Mal's eyes and made Simon howl. But after, they were front to back, Simon on his knees, leaning heavily forward, holding Mal's arm against his chest. If there was one position Simon had consistently refused despite its benefits, it was resting on hands and knees like a dog. He never let Mal do it and Mal assumed he wouldn't be willing himself. So Mal graciously kept one arm across Simon's chest to support him, and Simon held Mal's forearm with both hands.

"Better?" Mal asked once they'd settled again.

Simon nodded, smiling softly, then twisted back for a kiss. For a moment, they were lost on each other's tongues, but then Simon thrust back against Mal. Mal splayed the fingers of his free hand, pulling against Simon's skin in long strokes while the other hand stayed on Simon's chest, holding him close. He could feel Simon's heart pounding, double timing the rhythm of their thrusts.

"Mal," Simon gasped, whimpering and moaning each time Mal pushed into him. "Touch me," Simon begged, his hands constricting over Mal's wrist.

Chastising his own neglectfulness, Mal closed a hand on Simon's cock, teasing across the slit, pressing his thumb along the underside. Simon bucked erratically into his hand, cries of gratitude falling incoherently in three languages at once – English, Chinese, and other. Finally, Simon's walls clenched around Mal's shaft and Simon shot off in Mal's hand with a nearly silent gasp and whimper. His body quivered, held up only by Mal's embrace and Mal continued to thrust into him, inciting a string of aftershocks to Simon's orgasm.

"Come," Simon growled, but Mal was not near just yet. Simon flexed around him, reaching back and running sweaty palms up Mal's sides.

"Come," Simon ordered again. Mal bit his shoulder and thrust. With devious motives, Simon's hands reached down and squeezed Mal's ass, his fingertips brushing into the crease. Mal felt his body surge while his mind wondered at his lover's dexterity. Wriggling and shifting, Simon superhumanly stretched his hand until one of his fingers was able to brush Mal's opening. Mal groaned and leaned back, but Simon kept pressed against him, so he gained nothing. With feather-light fingers, Simon wandered between their bodies, coating the fingertip with whatever lube had squelched around his opening, then he went back and pressed that fingertip inside of Mal. Given their position, it was a miracle Simon could get it in at all, but it was all that Mal needed. Simon knew what he liked.

"Come," Simon pleaded and Mal spilled into him, collapsing forward. Simon immediately released Mal and caught himself on his hands and Mal's jaw clacked as it jarred against Simon's shoulder. He was still coming in long spurts with Simon clenching around him, and he nearly passed out from the sensation. The both shook and sobbed and pressed cheek to cheek because they didn't have breath enough to kiss. His arms giving out, Simon fell flat on the bed and just let Mal crush him.

"Curiosity satisfied?" Mal asked after the spots faded, pulling out of Simon and falling flat on his back next to him. Simon climbed on top and pressed his lips to Mal's, but they couldn't do much more than pant in rhythm.

"If you ever want to do that again, just ask," Simon wheezed, rolling out of bed and shaking his muscles to loosen them. It amazed Mal that Simon could walk at all, but when he went to the sink and wet a wash cloth to sponge himself off, Mal immediately understood. Once, during sex, Simon had jammed his toe, but he'd simply ignored it until he could rinse the stick off his skin. Mal watched as Simon slowly drew the cloth over his body, knowing the show was for his benefit.

Afterward, Simon smiled wanly, sat gingerly on the bed, and ran the warm damp cloth along Mal's chest, cleaning him off in his most doctorly fashion. Then Simon dipped his face down and sucked Mal's lips into his mouth in his most un-doctorly fashion. Mal slipped a tongue in there too, reveling in the vibrations as Simon laughed into his mouth.

"I like our usual position better," Simon whispered hotly, nudging Mal's shoulder so he'd lay on his stomach. Aroused, excited, and surprised, Mal bit his lip and rolled over to give Simon the access he wanted.

Simon started at his hairline, breathing heavily and tickling the hair on the back of his neck. Mal moaned with pleasure. He loved the tease of Simon's fingers on his hyper-sensitized skin, tickling paths along his arms, lips trailing. Small gestures that on their own meant nothing, but were powerful when combined with the promise of Simon inside him. Simon knelt on the pillow, his kneecaps grazing Mal's shoulders as his tongue crawled down Mal's spine. His hands ran once over Mal's ass, then again, using his thumb to part the cheeks. Simon hovered just far enough over Mal's body that only the tip of his cock rested against Mal's skin, still soft and spent from before. That's why Simon was going slow.

Mal hooked his arms around Simon's thighs, massaging the back of Simon's calves using gentle pressure from his thumbs. It was one of Simon's more unique pilot lights and he noticed Simon's toes wiggling in response. Suddenly, Simon's tongue thrust into Mal, warm and wet. His fingers raked over Mal's backside, igniting fire from skin to loins. They knew each other's bodies too well to take things slow. With a tug, Mal pulled Simon around and into a kiss, leaving Simon's fingers behind to continue the work his tongue had started. They lay side by side so each man could have the access he craved. Mal pulled Simon's leg around his waist and stroked along the inner thigh while his lips nibbled on Simon's ear. Laughter rippled through Simon and he pulled his fingers out of Mal's ass to adjust their tactics.

"Here," Simon murmured, pressing Mal's palm over his chest.

"I choose," Mal chided, pinching the pebbled flesh once then sliding his palm up to Simon's cheek. Simon arched against him until their chests touched, then kissed his nose. Their eyes met under hooded lids, their bodies frozen in time. Yesu, he'd missed gazing into those eyes.

Mal planted a soft trail of kisses from Simon's chin to his neck, choosing one of Simon's less abused sweet spots and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Simon chuckled, but Mal felt him instantly harden in response. Teasingly, Mal ran a finger up the top of Simon's thigh, then reached between them and traced the vein up the back of his shaft. Simon was at full attention now and Mal spread his legs giving him an angle.

"Ready?" Simon asked gently, his fingers tracing Mal's entrance.

"Always."

With a loving bite on the shoulder, Simon pushed into Mal so fast he saw stars. Mal reached up and tweaked Simon's nipples, unsure why that request was the only thought he could still coherently process. By this point, both were so over-sensitized that neither had much control. Simon reached for Mal's cock.

"You first?"

Mal swatted his hand away. "No," he gasped, shoving a finger into Simon's mouth and depressing his tongue. "You first. Me here… second."

Simon nipped and sucked at Mal's finger as a sign of agreement. His hands plundered Mal's body, raking across the skin, twisting Mal's earlobes between his fingertips and massaging Mal's scalp. He cradled and coddled Mal's face with a tenderness completely counter to the force with which he pounded into Mal's ass. Skin slapped skin and Mal gasped, unable to breathe under Simon's touch. He fought for control and nearly lost it when Simon came inside of him, gloriously loud and wet.

Mal felt himself hot, heavy, and aching as Simon turned to jelly over him. His body shivered and his teeth chattered with want. He placed Simon's hand on his cock, offering an alternative because he wasn't sure he could wait for Simon to catch his breath. But Simon just gave him a friendly squeeze and heaved his drooping body down Mal's torso again. Meeting Mal's eyes, he licked his lips lustily, then took Mal wholly in his mouth. This wouldn't take long. Simon's tongue teased across his slit, then flattened. He slid softly once up, down, then he deep-throated Mal and started to hum. The 'verse filled with stars and blinding heat and Mal felt consciousness waning. He'd never actually passed out on Simon before. He'd come close, but never this close. And as he tottered on the brink, he figured 'what the hell' and stopped resisting.

#

When Mal awoke, Simon was snuggled next to him, his face cloaked with doctorly concern and sympathy. He felt the cool compress on his cheek and gazed blearily at the remnant of his own seed on Simon's lips. As if reading his mind, Simon obliged him with a kiss.

"River will be upset if we're late."

Mal just nodded, too tired to move just yet and still seeing spots besides. His head ached from lack of oxygen and his body radiated heat and sex.

"Do you want to stay here?" Mal asked softly, wishing for once that tact was one of his virtues.

"River will be upset if –"

"No," Mal interrupted. "I mean do you want to stay with River?"

"What about us?"

"I'm staying with you," Mal answered. "My question is do you want to stay with her?"

Simon quirked his brow and caressed Mal's cheek. "I can't ask you to leave Serenity."

"And I can't ask you to leave your sister if your heart is with her."

"Mal."

"I only want you, Simon."

Simon nodded, his face scrunching with the weight of new decision. "You can't leave here."

"Can and will," Mal said firmly, forcing himself to sit up, despite the stars. "Listen to me, Simon, listen. All I'm saying is you don't have to choose between her and me. Do you want us to stay here with her?"

Simon ducked his head and pressed his lips together, a tear falling unbidden.

"Unless you want to stay without me," Mal offered, anxiety striking him.

Simon shook his head quickly. "River will kill me if I stay hovering over her shoulder," Simon sniffed, laughing softly. "I think it's best if I stay with you and we just visit her on occasion."

Mal sighed in relief, embracing Simon with hands and heart, wanting to tell him that it was okay to leave River behind, but not saying it because it sounded empty even in his head. He pressed his lips against Simon's cheek, messing up his hair, and squeezing his shoulders again, trying to wring out all the tears before they had to face the others.

"And don't ever threaten to leave me behind again," Simon scolded. "I love you. I can't … I can't be without you."

With one last squeeze, Simon backed off the bed, found his clothes, and started pulling them on roughly.

"River will be upset if we're late," he said again, not bothering to hide the tears falling down his cheek – not from Mal. Permitting him a moment of space, Mal went to the sink and sponged himself off, then started dressing as well. Gently, he sidled behind Simon, reached around, and buttoned his vest for him, then took him to the mirror and tried futily to adjust Simon's collar to cover a very obvious hickey. He'd never marked Simon before, but it was kind of nice. Simon tipped his head so Mal could kiss the bruise again. With a yielding smile, Simon turned and considered Mal critically. He straightened out Mal's shirt, pulled up Mal's suspenders, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Will you wear something for me?" Simon asked weakly and Mal couldn't help but wipe the tear trails from Simon's cheeks.

"Depends," Mal responded evenly. He'd made the mistake of saying 'yes' once before and wound up wearing a spotted bow-tie to a public function.

"I was going to wait for an anniversary or some time more romantic," Simon mumbled, filling the air with unnecessary words, going to a drawer and rooting around. When he turned around, he was holding out a ring. Soft pewter, simple, engraved with a pattern Mal recognized as a love knot. Mal took the ring and couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't see what's so funny," Simon complained as Mal slid the ring onto his finger and held it to the light to admire it.

"You know how they say couples who've been together a long time start acting alike?"

"Yes," Simon answered cautiously. Mal took Simon's hand and walked over to his nightstand, reaching for a box of his own. The ring he gave Simon was nearly identical, except that the ring Simon to gave Mal was engraved deeply and had a subtle texture whereas the ring Mal gave to Simon was laser imprinted and smooth to touch so it wouldn't snag on any of his fineries. Mal was glad when Simon laughed too, and they embraced gleefully.

"You boys ready?" Kaylee called, pounding on the hatch above.

"Be right there," Simon answered quickly, his eyes resting lovingly on Mal's. Their hands held aloft, they pressed palm to palm, fingers lacing, tongues intertwining in a soft kiss. Then, without a word, they left their bunk and walked with joint hands to the cargo bay to meet the others. Mal kept running his thumb over the ring on his finger and Simon kept twisting their wrists to admire the ring on his own hand. As they left Serenity, Mal looked back, wondering when he'd stopped needing his ship to be whole. He squeezed Simon's hand, his heart fluttering with peace. Leaning over, he whispered in his lover's ear, "I love you, Simon."

Simon just smiled back, peaceful and content, and they were lost in each others eyes. Mal had only ever had three homes: Shadow, Serenity, and now Simon.

#


	10. I Am My Own

**I Am My Own**

Simon wandered through the streets of Clearwater, missing his sister terribly, and absently twisting the ring on his finger just to remind himself that he still had Mal. The streets weren't too busy, but enough people were brushing past him that he compulsively checked for his wallet every few minutes. He barely even saw the man who knocked him over.

Falling hard on the dirt road, Simon sat stunned as the crowds stepped around him. He turned and froze, his eyes locking on the seedy man who had knocked him down. Ghost white skin lined with years of anger, face shrouded by fire red hair, and an unforgettably chiseled jaw. He was dressed properly, like Simon, but ignored any bit of breeding telling him to help Simon up. Simon didn't want his help. Just seeing him made his blood run cold. He couldn't even speak the name of the man who had abused him so many years ago. Heart pounding, Simon forced his eyes closed, knowing he must be hallucinating – the man who had hurt him was dead. Dead!

Taking a deep breath, Simon opened his eyes and gasped. The man had taken two steps closer and now towered over him. Grabbing Simon's arm, he pulled him roughly to standing. The touch burned right through to his skin, and Simon whimpered at first, but then ripped himself free.

"Very bold, boy," the man hissed in that same arrogant snake-like voice he'd always used. The words dripped from his tongue like venom. Simon's jaw clenched, unwilling to be a slave to this man again. Unwilling. Unable! The burn of the man's touch on his skin ignited a rebellious, hate-filled fire inside. Fists clenched, he whispered assuredly to himself, "I am my own."

"Are you?" the man mocked snidely.

Burning with anger, Simon launched forward, his fist connecting squarely with the man's iron jaw. He swung back and struck again, but this time the man blocked, laughing tauntingly. Simon managed a few more punches before the man caught his arm and twisted it behind Simon's back. He could feel the pressure in his wrist as his bones struggled not to break. Simon didn't care about such trivial injuries. Grunting at the strain on his arm, he kicked and butted against his attacker until he was free. The man lunged again, but Simon side-stepped, looking for an out. He hadn't run two steps before he slammed into Jayne's chest and nearly toppled again. Jayne caught him easily, holding him up with a fist on his shirt, and spinning him to face the attacker again while keeping one hand protectively over Simon's chest.

"This man bothering you, Doc?"

Simon looked uncertainly from his sinister attacker to Jayne, worlds colliding. The bruises on his fist told him he'd fought with a real man, but his mind spun around the knowledge that it must be a stranger. The man who had hurt him was dead! When Simon looked up again, the crowds were moving and his attacker fled. With a satisfied grunt, Jayne placed a hand on Simon's shoulder and led him back through the streets toward the rendezvous.

#

Simon forced himself to stop shaking, banishing the image of his abuser from his mind. He twisted the ring on his finger, thinking of Serenity, and found his composure. When he saw the mule across the square, Mal, Zoë, and Kaylee loading it with fresh supplies, he shrugged Jayne's hand off his shoulder and his breathing soothed.

Nodding courteously to the others, Simon quickly clasped his hands behind his back to conceal his bruised knuckles. Zoë noticed immediately and shot him a questioning look, so he rolled his eyes and smiled apologetically. Since pairing up with Mal, Simon had waffled his way into and out of trouble on more than one occasion. Kaylee accused Mal of being a bad influence, but Simon figured he could shrug off the fight as nothing serious if only he could keep calm and not picture _that_ face.

"Simon," Kaylee admonished, catching the non-verbal exchange between him and Zoë. "What did you get up to?"

"Tussle," Jayne answered for him. Simon unclasped his hands to swat Jayne, since there was no need to hide anymore. "Real vicious one too. Looked fun."

"Oh, yes, fun," Simon agreed sardonically, avoiding Mal's eye. It didn't matter. Mal saw right through him. With a quiet wave, he motioned Simon toward him and wrapped him in a one armed hug, intentionally keeping things casual. It was a litmus test of sorts that he used to check just how rattled Simon was by something. Simon smiled gratefully, leaning his forehead on Mal's, and then without thinking, his hand wandered up Mal's back and hooked over his shoulder. With a shudder, he pressed his eyes shut, knowing he'd just failed the test.

Wrapping both arms around Simon, Mal guided him to the far side of the mule for a more private conversation and Simon couldn't help it. Now both his hands were hooked over Mal's shoulders, like he didn't trust Mal (or anyone) to hold him up when his knees buckled. Despite being perfectly aware of this stress response, Simon had never successfully repressed it when he was shaken and terrified and confronted with his past.

"You alright?" Mal breathed quietly in his ear, one hand pressed against Simon's back, the other in his hair. He was being careful, trying to make it look like their normal good-bye, so that Simon wouldn't be embarrassed in front of the others.

"Just hold me a moment," Simon answered, clinging to Mal, burying himself in the scent and feel of the present. Mal obliged with a gentle smile, holding on until Simon's grip relaxed and his arms fell easily around Mal's waist.

"He's going for half an hour not half a decade!" Kaylee teased, peeking over the top of the mule. "No need to get all dramatic."

Mal looked up at her with a soft smile while Simon's face stayed pressed against his chest. With a gentle kiss, they said good-bye. Then Simon climbed onto the mule with Kaylee and Zoë and their supplies to go back to the ship and Mal and Jayne went to meet the client. Jayne punched Mal in the shoulder, trying to knock that plastered grin off Mal's face. Simon watched them walk away, biting his lip wistfully, until Kaylee swatted his arm – the one that man had nearly broken. He covered his wince with laughter and swatted back. As far as she and everyone else knew, it was a normal day.

#

Simon had been brooding since River left, but his nightmares were getting more and more intense. He said it was because Mal had gotten shot that day in Clearwater, and though it wasn't more than a graze, Mal had no way to argue against that. It was the third night, they'd finished the job, and Simon had had a fairly easy day, so Mal hoped things were getting close to normal. But now they were lying in bed, and Simon was sleeping more fully on top of him than usual and Mal was sure his left arm would be asleep in ten minutes if they didn't adjust some. Still he figured he'd wait it out, because once asleep, Simon was fairly pliable.

Simon's cheek rested on Mal's shoulder blade, leaving humid moisture on his skin with every breath. He could feel Simon twisting the ring on his finger, blinking in concentration, forcing his eyes open despite the tug of sleep. At Simon's motions, Mal couldn't help but thumb across the textured ring on his left hand, smiling at the deep engraving. It was exactly what he would've chosen for himself had he been standing next to Simon in the shop when he got it. With his arm pinned, Mal couldn't do much more than feel, so Mal turned the ring again and Simon wriggled.

"Stop that," Simon murmured into his skin.

Startled, Mal lifted his head to look back at Simon, but got no reaction. He curled his fingers again and only then realized how close they were pinned to Simon's nethers. With a devious smile, he intentionally pinched Simon between his first two fingers and Simon wriggled again, stifling a laugh, rolling and pulling Mal with him. They turned just far enough for Simon to get a good grip on Mal, but then whatever wrestle-instinct that initiated the move fell out of the both of them and Simon just stroked Mal lazily and kissed across the skin of his back. Mixing a pleasured groan with laughter, Mal pulled Simon's leg over his and began rocking backwards. Simon stilled the motion by tightening his leg around Mal's hips, but he continued rubbing against Mal in a slower rhythm matching that of his hand. The strokes were gentle enough to get Mal happy, but not enough to make him hard. Just as a check, Mal reached for the jar of lube on the bedside table, but Simon shook his head, nose rubbing against the back of Mal's neck.

"Not tonight," he sighed softly.

Disappointed, but not surprised, Mal pulled Simon's hand off his cock and set it serenely onto his stomach. Simon nestled against his back, spooning their bodies together. Comfortable. Pleasant. Weird. He and Simon never slept like this. He waited, feeling the tickle of Simon's lashes as he finally lost the battle against his drooping eyelids and surrendered to sleep. As their breathing fell into rhythm, Mal considered sleep too, but his lungs never seemed to work right when lying on his side. Mal started rolling onto his stomach again, pulling Simon over him like a blanket, but the motion made Simon stiffen. And then it happened. Simon's hand snaked up and hooked around Mal's shoulder

"Simon?" Mal queried, placing a hand over Simon's as he tried to turn and face him. Simon's arm constricted forcefully around him, stealing his breath. His hands were slick, and Mal could feel the drops of perspiration forming on Simon's face.

"Please, no," Simon whimpered, pressing his face against Mal's skin. "No," Simon begged again as Mal wriggled and turned. His body went so stiff, Mal couldn't even sit him up, so he just stayed lying down, both arms wrapped tightly around Simon.

"Snap out of it, Simon," Mal whispered soothingly, shaking him gently. The move only made Simon tenser, his face purple from holding his breath. "Wake up, please. Wake up, I'm here."

Simon gasped loudly, his eyes flying open. His body trembled for want of oxygen, and all Mal could do was hold on. He looked into those wild eyes, fear striking in his heart. Simon's clothes were drenched with sweat, his parched mouth flapping but unable to talk, his body contracting.

"Simon," Mal cried out, curling Simon against his chest.

"His touch," Simon choked, burrowing against Mal. "It burns." Simon's body withered before him, collapsing and dying at once.

"No, Simon, look at me," Mal ordered. When he saw the blood on Simon's shirt, he panicked. The seizing, the writhing – it reminded him of a soldier bleeding out painfully.

"No!" Mal demanded, ripping the clothes from Simon's body, seeking the source of the blood. Everywhere! It seeped right through his skin, and where it didn't he was purple with bruises. Heart racing, Mal ripped the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around Simon, running through the halls of Serenity and straight to the shower. He thought of using a cold shower to snap Simon out of the nightmare, but worried that might be worse torture, so he ran it lukewarm and carried Simon inside. The sheet pooled on the floor of the shower, covering the drain, causing the running water to flood, turning red with blood. Mal cradled Simon tenderly in his lap, cleansing Simon's skin, rocking as much to soothe himself as his lover.

After ten minutes, the water ran cold, but Mal stayed on the floor with Simon, rocking gently. When he stopped to pull the sheet off the drain, he felt Simon continuing the motion on his own and his heart snapped in two. Simon muttered softly to the rhythm of the rocking, his teeth chattering from the cold water. The blood had washed away, but his body was still splotched and bruised. Not since the war had Mal witnessed such an intense stress reaction. Mal turned off the water and smoothed Simon's wet hair away from his face.

"Simon?"

Simon moaned softly, sinking against Mal, the tension draining from his body. Mal cupped the water from the floor of the shower and drizzled it against Simon's skin.

"Gorram drain!"

Mal nearly jumped out of his skin as Kaylee entered, kicking the pooled water, thinking the plumbing had failed.

"Kaylee, I need towels" Mal hollered, hoping to distract her with a task.

Kaylee peeked around the corner and yelped when she saw the pair of them. She fell to her knees in the pooled water, crying out Simon's name. Mal didn't remind her of the order. He just stayed there on the floor, looking helplessly at the man curled achingly against his chest. Having little idea of what else to do, he opened his grip, letting Kaylee fuss against Simon, as she called his name. After an eternity, Simon's eyes fluttered open as he pulled his face out of Kaylee's hands and nuzzled against Mal's chest.

"Tried to take me from you," Simon murmured. "I am my own."

Finally his body shifted and he scooted up Mal's body wrapping his arms around Mal's neck. Mal hugged him tight, determined not to cry in front of Kaylee, but finding the goal pointless.

"You okay," Kaylee asked weakly as she sat in the cold water next to Mal and stroked Simon's back.

Mal shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"You want help dressing him?"

Mal looked at the sopping wet sheet on the floor. Simon was stripped to his shorts, Mal's pants were soaked, and Kaylee's coveralls were wet from the waist down. He wasn't sure it was worth drying off just yet. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head again.

"Kaylee," Simon murmured, seeing her for the first time and reaching out. Simon caressed Kaylee's cheek, then hooked his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a hug. It was an awkward kind of group hug for Mal, but Kaylee entered it so gratefully that he couldn't push her away.

"I saw him," Simon continued. "I can't unsee him."

It concerned Mal how much Simon was starting to sound like his sister. Kaylee kissed Simon's forehead and pulled away, but Simon's grip on her neck tightened.

"Please," Simon hissed as Kaylee yelped. His hands tangled in her hair.

"Simon, you're hurting me," Kaylee whispered respectfully. Mal could tell she wasn't hurt, but rather was using the phrase to provoke a response, and it worked. Immediately, Simon's hand dropped and he clung to Mal again, his eyes wide and bewildered. Kaylee stood up calmly. "I'll get you two some towels."

As Kaylee left, Simon looked at Mal again, his eyes intense. "I saw him. He doesn't think I'm stronger, but I am. I can beat him this time."

"Beat who?" Mal asked.

Simon's face crinkled, perturbed by the question, and he just rested his cheek against Mal's chest. "I can beat him," he kept repeating. "I can."

#

Despite Simon's protests that he could walk just fine, Mal carried him from the shower. They'd dried off, he'd wrapped the towel lightly around Simon's waist, and then picked him up. Simon stopped muttering as a show of sanity, but surrendered to Mal's will and let himself be carried to the Infirmary. Mal set him on the table, looking at the red splotches all over his body, and having no idea where to start. Simon's head bowed in shame and he pointed to a drawer. Mal opened it and inside were needles already pre-prepped with sedatives of different strengths. Mal closed his eyes, his heart heavy with grief.

"Simon, what set this off?"

"What do you mean?" His shoulders were hunched and he looked only vaguely aware of where he was.

"These nightmares. At first, you were brooding over River, and then… something's snapped in you. Do you want to go back to River?"

"Please, no," Simon whispered. Then, squaring his shoulders, Simon found his composure. Adopting his high-browed doctor tone, he explained, "I saw him in Clearwater. He's the one I fought."

"Someone you knew?" Mal asked, confused.

"I know it doesn't make sense," Simon acknowledged, looking down at his knees. "I know he's dead. But that's who I saw."

Mal shuddered. Simon would never say his name.

With a deep breath, Mal pulled three needles from the drawer Simon had indicated and held them up. Simon pointed to the middle one.

"It's strong," Simon warned. "I'll be out in a few minutes. It may be best to administer it in our quarters."

Shaking his head, Mal turned Simon's arm in his hands and cleaned off a spot to stick him. "I ain't good at sticking needles, but I'm good at carrying you. Best I do this part in the light."

Simon grimaced, failing to swallow emotion and looked at Mal with the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever seen. The tables finally turned, Mal figured that Simon suddenly empathized and understood the helpless look River had given him so many times. Mal paused, trying to keep his heart from melting into a puddle and leaking out his toes.

"You want me to call Kaylee back to hold your hand?" Mal joked.

Simon rolled his eyes, a small smile creeping in.

"You know the way you were grabbing at her in the shower seemed like you wanted a threesome."

Mal needed to make jokes. It was the only way he could stay focused and distracted enough to shove the needle into Simon's arm.

"You see this?" Simon asserted, grabbing Mal's left hand and pointing to the ring on his finger. "It means I don't share."

Mal smiled back, suddenly feeling special despite everything. "Neither do I."

#

Back in their bunk, Mal paced agitatedly, his hands gliding through his wet hair, tugging at the roots, his mind screaming at the walls. Simon slept numbly on the bed mouth hanging open. Not knowing what to do and not caring about the hour, Mal waved River.

"Cap- um, Mal," she greeted, perplexed, but bright-eyed. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I just sedated your brother," Mal answered, not wasting time with pleasantries. He was exhausted, confused, and if he was truly honest with himself, scared out of his wits.

"Oh no," River intoned, her voice deep, like she'd expected the news but had hoped against it. "Clearwater?"

Mal nodded. "Any light you want to shed on why he's seeing dead people."

River swallowed uncertainly, choking on the words, unwilling to speak them to truth. "Derek … isn't… dead."

"Derek?" Mal repeated. He'd never heard the name, but had only one guess as to who it was. "This is the man that…"

"The same," River confirmed. "I told Simon he was dead so he wouldn't go back there."

Mal bristled all over, casting a sidelong glance at the sleeping Simon.

"I had him arrested. He was banished on the core worlds," River explained quickly, tears coming to her eyes. "I never thought we'd leave the core. Please forgive me. I can go now. I can kill him for real this time. I'm not afraid to –"

Mal held up a hand to silence her. River watched him pacing over the vid, her eyes pleading. "You did what's right," Mal finally told her. "No sense getting fresh blood on your hands, Little Albatross. You got a life you're trying to start."

"Please don't tell Simon that I lied to him."

"Don't got much choice in the matter. He'll drive himself crazy thinking he hallucinated the whole thing."

"Then tell him I'm sorry."

Mal looked from Simon to River, a plan forming in his mind. "You can tell him yourself. We're picking you up on the way back to Clearwater. We got a score to settle."

#

The next morning, Mal woke up on his stomach, his left hand resting on Simon's chest as Simon lay next to him numbed by medication. It was as far as he'd slept from Simon in forever and a day, but it just didn't seem right molding Simon elsewise while he was drugged and unawares. There were spots of blood on the bottom sheet and Mal thought vaguely of retrieving the soiled top sheet from the laundry before the rest of the crew started talking.

Nothing made sense. He had never seen Simon so out of control and wasn't sure if it was from seeing his tormenter or from thinking he'd hallucinated it all and beaten a stranger. Mal scooted close enough to Simon to nuzzle his shoulder. The splotches and bruises on Simon's skin were torture to look at and Mal wondered how tender it was.

"Mal?" Simon gurgled, then coughed. Mal checked compulsively – no blood.

"I'm here."

Simon's hand fell limply over his chest and found Mal's hand. "Always thought that was a myth – people sweating blood."

Mal had seen it in the war, but didn't feel like saying so. Simon spoke with quiet rhythm, thoughtful, trying not to feel – trying not to set off another reaction.

"You hurting at all?" Mal asked, lifting his head from the pillow, desperate to see light in Simon's eyes but finding none.

Simon took a moment, flexing muscles, testing his body, and not hardly moving. Finally he shook his head.

"You need any drugs?"

"Only if you're not staying." The request in those simple words made Mal shiver. Barely able to move his limbs for the drugs still in his system, Simon just lay still as Mal cuddled against him. At Simon's behest, Mal started telling stories, shooting the breeze as though they were taking a leisurely morning together. It was difficult to keep the tone light, but he did it for Simon's sake. They were still recovering from the night before and could talk serious about it another time. The topic fell across marshmallows and Simon's whole body pulsed.

"I am so zhen de shi hungry," he said. His exhausted eyes finally fell on Mal's and they stared at each other a moment before bursting out laughing. It was short-lived because it wasn't really funny, but the normalcy of the request delighted them both. Kissing the nearest bit of skin (just above Simon's collar), Mal rolled out of bed and went to find his secret stash of Fruity Oaty Bars. Mal always kept a box hidden away in his bunk since the crew was completely incapable of rationing the treats. He'd even taken to rotating the location so that Simon wouldn't hand them all out in a fit of compassion… again.

They exchanged sly smiles as Simon sat up against the headboard, weak but determined. He accepted the snack that Mal offered and nibbled slowly, absorbing the calmness of the present to shield him from the past. Mal lay down on the bed, nestling against Simon's thigh, but Simon pulled Mal's head into his lap and massaged Mal's earlobe tenderly while he chewed on the food.

Mal grazed his fingers against the fabric of Simon's pants, wondering if Simon wanted him to talk again or if just the sight and feel was enough. He needed to tell Simon what River said. He dreaded –

Two raps sounded on the hatch above.

"Come in, Zoë," Mal called automatically, recognizing the terse knock. As an afterthought, Mal checked both himself and Simon to make sure they were appropriately  
>covered. He propped himself on his elbows as Zoë slid down the ladder in a single move and turned to face them.<p>

"Sir, did you –"

Zoë stopped short on seeing Simon sitting there calm as a cucumber eating a Fruity Oaty Bar, with his skin splotched purple and yellow, looking like he'd taken the beating of a lifetime. Mal rolled out of bed, knowing she would accept no explanation unless it came from Simon and came without Mal lording over the room.

"I'll go make you a real breakfast," Mal told Simon, finding his slippers and exchanging a look with Zoë that carried the full declaration of innocence that he would have spoken aloud if such things were still necessary between them. Zoë's look said she believed him, but it was her duty to look out for Simon.

"Mal, wait," Simon called after him, and Mal turned at the ladder.

"Won't be long," he promised, then climbed out. He did not envy Simon the conversation he was about to have with Zoë. He wondered how much Simon would tell her, and cringed at how much he'd keep hidden. Walking slowly to the galley, he found Jayne already frying up the protein scrambled-eggs style, and set to preparing a plate. He didn't bother with small talk, because Jayne wasn't the type to appreciate such trifles. He found a mug for tea, then a tall glass of water. After the night Simon had, he was probably dehydrated. Why hadn't Mal thought of that before?

The hatch to his bunk opened again, and Mal took that as his cue to return.

"Got blood on your clothes," Jayne called after him. Mal twisted, saw the smears, and cringed at the memory, but kept moving.

When he climbed into the bunk, Simon sat stoically staring at a spot on the wall, determined not to fidget. Mal set the food tray across Simon's lap and ran his fingers through Simon's hair, which at least awarded him eye contact. Simon drank the entire glass of water in one go, then held the cup out to Mal for a refill. When Mal went to the sink, he noticed that Simon's blood-stained clothes were now soaking. Zoë must have gotten the drawn-out clinical description and a part of Mal was glad he'd missed that.

"What did you need, Zo?" Mal asked, getting back to the business at hand.

"You initiated a course change, sir?"

"I did. We're picking up River on –"

"Mal, no," Simon interjected. "I told you –"

Mal held up a hand to silence Simon, choosing his word carefully. "I spoke with her on the matter. River wants to come on this run."

Simon started to protest again, but Zoë spoke first.

"A new job, sir?"

"In a manner," he agreed, looking square at Simon as he spoke. "Simon has unfinished business on Clearwater."

"No, Mal, he's dead –"

"He's not," Mal countered and Simon's body went rigid, his knuckles going white as he clutched his tea cup.

"He's not?"

"So says River, so we're going back to settle this once and for all."

Simon's eyes were wide with surprise, but not fear. It was a subtle distinction Mal had learned over the years. Mal took it as a good sign.

Zoë shifted, not privy to the details, but not caring so long as she knew enough to keep them safe. "What's the plan, sir?"

"Nothing that concerns you just yet. Keep course set for Kerry and the crew in the dark for now."

Zoë nodded curtly and turned to leave.

"Zoë, thank you," Simon called after her and she paused on the ladder to look at him. "For your concern."

She nodded again and left them in peace. As soon as the door shut, Mal slumped against the ladder, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He risked a glance at Simon and saw the millions of thoughts running through his eyes at the speed of light, the food on his tray all but forgotten.

"You okay with this plan?" Mal asked. "If you ask me, I'll stop."

"I won't ask."

"But you're not okay," Mal finished for him, cocking his head, trying to cipher Simon's racing mind. "You don't look okay –"

"That's because you're way the hell over there!" Simon interrupted sharply. "Dammit, Mal, if I trusted myself to walk, I'd be in your arms right now!"

"No need to get tetchy," Mal admonished teasingly, crossing the room and sinking next to Simon on the bed and placing an arm around his shoulders. Simon's arm snaked around Mal's waist, and he tipped his head sideways on Mal's shoulder, looking casually relaxed as he started poking again at his breakfast.

"Not scared at all?" Mal checked, wondering if Simon had finally mastered the art of masking his fears.

"Quaking in my boots," Simon confessed, looking at Mal thoughtfully, but not nearly as distant as he could've. "It's almost over."

Mal agreed with a smile, practically tasting sweet victory in those words. "It's almost over."

#

The night before they reached Kerry, Mal lay awake in bed, brooding over the plan. He wasn't the vengeful type. Never killed a man he didn't have to… or wasn't getting paid to. As much as he told himself he was just protecting River at this point, he knew it was a lie. Sure, if he weren't going, she might just make her own crusade, but not likely. She was like him – she didn't go about killing folk she didn't have to. Now here Mal was dragging both Simon and River into some rash quest of vengeance that he'd conjured in the middle of the night while Simon was bleeding through his skin. Although Zoë was in the dark about the true mission, she suspected, and her words spoke a thousand warnings to him. He'd lost many things in the war, but he had not become this man, nor did he want to be.

Simon seemed so confident these past few days – so hopeful that this chapter of his life might finally close. But Mal had been through Serenity Valley and he knew it wasn't a place you just left. His heart twisted in confusion, but he couldn't back out on Simon now. He couldn't.

Simon slid down the ladder, more chipper than he had any right to be given the circumstances. Mal watched him silently as he stripped off every last shred of his clothing, crawled head first under the covers and rested his mouth right over Mal's clothed crotch.

"Odd mood to be in," Mal commented, pulling the sheet away. Simon looked up without smiling, rested his head on Mal's stomach looking downwards, and reached a hand into Mal's pants.

"I need a distraction."

"May not be much help, night before a fight."

"Anything's better than watching you sulk."

Mal folded his arms behind his head and went back to brooding, letting Simon play. Simon's hand grazed through the short and curlies, then stroked him nice and easy. It was almost considerate in that his motions were pleasant but not commanding or distracting. Mal's fingers fell in Simon's hair and stroked with the same gentle rhythm.

"Having second thoughts?" Simon asked him.

"Mmm," Mal assented.

"I'm not surprised. When you said we were coming back here, I couldn't believe it. I knew you'd kill him if you ever ran across him, but I never thought you'd go looking for him."

Even after Mal told him he knew it, Simon had not said the name of his abuser.

"I'm not that man."

"So don't kill him," Simon said simply. "Don't become that man because of me."

Mal's hand froze in Simon's hair and Simon turned to look at him, sure and confident as ever. Then Simon shimmied around in the bed until his face was close to Mal's.

"Mal, I know you look out for your own and no one else, and as long as he's not a direct threat, you have no interest in killing him. But I've seen you speak for those who have no voice, and I've seen you fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I can fight for myself now, but as sure as I'm breathing I know he's had others. He may even have someone now. Someone who doesn't have a little sister calling after him and dragging him home. He had others…" Simon swallowed thickly and forced himself to continue. "Even as he had me. I knew of two others."

Simon looked down at his hand on Mal's chest and Mal clasped it firmly. Simon was trembling.

"Maybe we don't kill him," Simon continued. "Maybe we castrate him. Maybe we threaten him and warn him off. Maybe we go frolic about town for a day, turn rudder, and never look back."

Mal puffed lightly, not daring to look in Simon's eyes.

"What happens tomorrow is not the turning point," Simon assured. "Derek." Simon shuddered as he said the name, but forced it out anyway. "He's already lost. He doesn't own me. I am my own."

Mal inhaled sharply, looking deep into those fervent blue eyes, seeing strength he never had before. Simon held up his hand, pointing to the ring on his finger. Only the light glinting off the ring belied the tremor in his limbs.

"And I gave myself to you."

Cupping Simon's chin, Mal leaned forward and kissed the young man before him. He'd never seen Simon's eyes so bright and present at the same time. Mal tasted sweet victory on those lips.

Sweet victory and terrible mischief. His speech finished, Simon pulled back onto his knees, then straddled Mal's hips, pondering impishly.

"Now you gave yourself to me, too, and I want a little distraction."

Simon wriggled a bit trying to peal off Mal's clothes and Mal laughed heartily, reaching up and tickling his naked lover. Just fun and games tonight, maybe jerk each other off. Every time Simon flaunted that ring, it made Mal feel so gorram special he couldn't stop his heart beaming. Having his skin peppered with love and kisses was icing on the cake.

#

The next day, Simon sat at the dining room table across from Kaylee, but they weren't looking at each other. The ship was empty, save for them – everyone having gone off to various tasks, not knowing that Mal and River were on a quest for vengeance on Simon's behalf.

Kaylee knew. After finding him and Mal in the shower the other day, Simon figured she deserved to know. And when they'd landed just outside of town and Simon started shaking so bad he couldn't breathe, and Mal had no choice but to sedate him, Kaylee volunteered to sit with him while Mal and River went out. Now here they were. In the dining room. Simon had a blanket over his shoulders and a cup of very strong whiskey in his hands (he'd have to owe Jayne for that) and a very sweet, concerned mechanic watching out for him. He hadn't actually swallowed any of the whiskey, because the smell alone seemed sufficient to burn his throat. Kaylee didn't know, but he'd swiped a pistol from Jayne's bunk at the same time as the whiskey, and he could feel the cold metal tucked into his belt, pressing against his stomach. This was his battle. His. He had to end it.

Not one to be deterred once he made a decision, Simon shrugged off the blanket, stood swiftly, and strode to the back door. Kaylee shouted a string of protests after him, which eventually turned to pleas that he wait up so she could tie her shoes on proper.

"Stay here, Kaylee," Simon told her. "This is something I have to do."

She looked at him firmly, hooking his elbow so he didn't get away while she locked up the ship behind them. "Not alone, you don't."

#

Mal had expected a seedy, manipulative lowlife who spoke haughtily and disrespectfully of his victims. He'd expected to exchange insults and fists. He hadn't expected a modest, well-kept estate with manicured lawns and a fish pond in the front yard. He hadn't expected the tangible presence of demons, and soul-sucking darkness as if evil spirits were perched on the sculpted shrubbery. He hadn't expected River to tense up and grab hold of his hand.

"We can leave," Mal offered as her grip tightened and he feared his bones would break. River shook her head.

"Then ease up a little. That's my gun hand you're crushing."

River let go and strode more fervently to the front door, but before she could knock, the double-wide oak door swung open revealing a tall red-headed man, dressed to the nines in pretty fits to match his estate.

"Meddling sibling, I never expected to see your face again," he spat and Mal bristled. "Your brother is not here."

The door slammed in their faces and Mal looked over at River in surprise. He was about to knock, but River took a step forward and kicked the door in. The first shot fired out almost immediately, and Mal tackled River sideways, using the walls of the house as cover.

The next shot hit the railing supporting the porch canopy and wood splintered every which way. River drew her weapon, rolled across the entrance again and shot twice into the house. Mal peeked through the window, but the curtains were drawn, and he was rewarded with a glass shattering bullet that grazed his cheek. His skin burned and he fell back in surprise. Any doubts he had about killing this man were gone.

Rolling off the side of the porch, Mal looked to River, trying to speak with their eyes enough to regroup. Why, oh why had they not brought Jayne and Zoë with them? Not like everyone wouldn't find out about Simon anyhow!

Movement flickered across the doorway, and Mal let off a shot. He saw blood spatter through the threshold, and heard a cry of pain. He'd gotten someone. But Simon had mentioned others… They needed to get inside!

Reading his thoughts, River let off a string of bullets that knocked the curtains off the front windows. Sunlight streamed in and hoards of demons fleeted into the shadows.

"Enough child!" that snake-like voice shouted from inside. "Have you come to kill me?"

Mal looked at River, but before either could answer, Simon stalked past them and into the house, pistol by his side. Derek raised his weapon and Mal jumped onto the porch, covering Simon's back, stepping in through the window.

"The boy returns," Derek crooned, cocking his weapon. Simon shot first, but the gun was aimed low and the bullet hit Derek's ankle. Had he been aiming for the knee or some place compassionate? Mal swore under his breath, sidling up to Simon's shoulder as side guard.

Derek took quick aim and fired, but Simon sidestepped. The bullet took a chunk out of Simon's arm, enough to make him bleed, but not enough to deter him.

"Simon!" Kaylee squealed from behind. Mal looked just outside the house, seeing Kaylee crouched next to River.

"Stay back!" Mal ordered, his protective instincts screaming.

"And look," Derek mocked. "The slave has traded one master for another."

Mal had some choice retorts that never made it past his lips. Simon shot Derek's wrist and the gun went flying away. The precision mark made Mal double-take. Simon's next shot went straight through Derek's gut, snapping his belt in two, sending the buckle skidding across the floor. The symbolism was not lost on Mal. Simon was not taking wild shots; he knew exactly what he was aiming for.

With Derek immobilized, Simon took two more bold steps forward and shot his former abuser in the crotch. Next, he found the clock on the wall and shot that too. As he looked down at Derek, his eyes burned with anger.

"I still win," Derek seethed as he bled out on the floor. Simon shook his head pitifully.

"I am my own," he declared fiercely, then shot Derek in the heart. His bullets spent, Simon turned to face his stunned lover, the anger on his face melting to strength. Tucking the gun in his belt, he walked straight into Mal's arms, embracing him gently and all Mal could feel was the surge of victory. Not only was Simon's tormentor killed, but Simon was… okay. River and Kaylee fell into the hug too, sandwiching Simon between them, and relief flooded the room.

"I am my own," Simon repeated surely.

"Good," Mal said, kissing Simon's nose, a twinkle in his eye. "Because I don't share."

Simon's blue eyes met his, holding a mischievous twinkle of their own. "Neither do I."

#


	11. Sweet Victory

**Victory Sex**

Victory sex, Mal decided, was the best sex ever.

EVER!

It didn't come the first day after they left Clearwater or the second or the third. The fourth day, they dropped River off on Kerry and Simon sulked around the entire afternoon. The morning of the fifth day, while still half-asleep, Simon shifted so that he lay directly on top of Mal, which wasn't unusual in and of itself. Mal flexed every muscled head to toe as much to feel Simon as to tease him. Simon just sighed softly in his ear, sounding for all the 'verse like he was ready to fall asleep again. Mal was nearly fooled until Simon's feet betrayed him. Using the tips of his toes, Simon started massaging Mal's calves in that unconscious manner he had when he thought about sex in the morning.

"Something you want, Simon?"

Simon paused briefly, catching himself, then pinched Mal's heels more firmly between his toes.

"I want my arm to stop hurting."

Mal winced sympathetically at Simon's newest scar. Derek's bulled had taken a fair bigger chunk than Mal had suspected and the yu ben de rim doctor that patched Simon up wasn't nearly as talented at making wounds disappear.

With the barest nudge of Mal's shoulder, Simon levitated his body so that Mal could flip over and they were lying face to face. It was a trick they'd perfected in the single bed and Mal still had no idea where all Simon's weight went when they did it.

As Simon's body melded to Mal's, their lips met in a slow, deep sighing kiss. Sensing Simon's weariness, Mal rolled them so that he was on top and Simon wouldn't have to support himself on his gimped arm. After a few minutes gently massaging tongues and lips, the kiss ended and they smiled contentedly at each other.

"I ain't a doctor, but my momma taught me most scrapes could be kissed better."

"Sounds like a malpractice suit to me."

Mal kissed along the bandage, and Simon shifted slightly.

"You need something for the pain?"

Simon shook his head and smiled softly, reaching up one hand to caress Mal's cheek. "What you're doing is good."

Sliding into a straddle over Simon's hips, Mal shifted his weight and kissed down Simon's neck while his hands wandered under Simon's shirt. When he noticed Simon not moving his injured arm, he gave up on removing the shirt and kissed Simon right through the fabric. Simon arched into his mouth, moaning happily as his good hand explored Mal's back, his fingers digging into the skin. Mal peppered Simon with kisses, dotting around his shoulder and collar bone, then latching onto a nipple. Once Simon's shirt was damp with saliva, Mal pulled back and blew across the wet spot, chilling the skin beneath, bringing the nub to attention. Simon exhaled pleasantly, placed a finger on Mal's lips, and guided their faces together again. They fell into another round of languid kisses then Mal nestled against Simon's side, resting one arm over his chest.

"You're stopping?" Simon asked, disappointment tinging his voice.

"Just waiting for you to wake up a little more."

"I thought I'd let you lead for now. I'm tired of using you to assert my independence from him."

"Hmm," Mal intoned thoughtfully. "Didn't realize that's what you were doing."

Simon shrugged, indicating he hadn't thought too deeply about his motives before. Mal pinched a nipple and Simon's whole body convulsed in surprise.

"Maybe now you can do all those things because it turns me on," Mal suggested devilishly.

Simon pinched back, his eyes glinting with lust. "Yeah? You like when I lead?"

"Lost your chance!" Mal grinned, pouncing on top of Simon, attacking him with nips and kisses. With an unexpected burst of strength, Simon flipped them and suddenly he was on top. He didn't stay for long. They rolled again left, then right, nearly falling off the side of the bed. Mal tried to be gentle because he noticed Simon bracing his injured arm against his torso, but they wrestled so rarely that he didn't want to stop. For only have one good arm, Simon was amazingly agile and powerful. Just to keep things fair, Mal used only one arm too, but he kept switching which one to suit his purpose.

They laughed, rolled, and flipped, exploring every unexercised spring on the mattress. Every now and then, Mal would get the upper hand, then forget why he wanted it in the first place. At one point, Simon pounced Mal's chest a little too high and they both toppled over the edge of the bed, bringing an avalanche of sheets and pillows with them. Mal's head banged against the floor and he landed upside down, his legs still on the bed, his shoulders resting on the deck plates. Simon slid roughly across his torso and kept going, ending up doing a somersault and smacking against the bureau. They were both laughing so hard, they were blind to anything but joy.

Mal blinked at his upside down world and couldn't stop. There was something pure about laughing with Simon. It never had to be at their own expense or anyone else's. It was an explosion of joy sourced from deep within Mal's heart overflowing like bubbles from a Champaign bottle.

Doing a backward roll off the bed, Mal pulled himself to his knees and crawled over to Simon. Every time their eyes met, they broke out laughing again, so Mal gave up on eye contact and started sucking furiously on Simon's up-ended toes. Simon squealed with delight, trying not to flail as Mal kissed up the inside of his leg. The cramped space between the foot of the bed and the bureau wasn't wide enough to stretch out and as Mal kissed up Simon's pretzeled body, he found the confined space kept all of Simon's kissable parts deliciously close. As Mal alternated swiping his tongue between Simon's knees, nethers, and nose, Simon writhed and wriggled. Quickly, he shimmied out from under Mal, flipped over, and fought his way to the foot of the bed.

Grabbing a hold of Simon's ankles, Mal tripped his lover and Simon fell bent over the side of the bed. In a fit of lust, Mal's tongue traced that glorious arc where the Lord had split Simon, only just reaching that sweet spot behind the balls that elicited a delighted yelp. Simon spread instinctively, but squirmed against Mal's grip, his good hand grasping at the bed sheet. Taking the easy hint, Mal kissed rapidly up Simon's spine, hooked an arm across Simon's chest, and hauled them both back onto the bed, and fell on his face next to Simon.

Immediately, Simon flopped onto his back, panting heavily, bracing his right arm with his left. Mal kissed lightly around Simon's shoulders and neck, feeling the tension release as Simon's breathing soothed. Their mouths met and tongues mingled in a slow, deep kiss and Simon used both hands to cradle Mal's chin, one steady, the other trembling. Their fingers intertwined and Mal kissed each one softly.

"How about you rest here a bit," Mal whispered, placing Simon's hands gently on his chest and kissing down the centerline of his body. He lifted Simon's shirt just enough to swirl his tongue in Simon's navel and feel the muscles contract beneath that ivory skin.

Mal's fingers danced in the waistband of Simon's pants, teasing the skin, barely grazing the tip of Simon's cock, then ignoring it firmly. Simon arched his hips up so that Mal could remove the clothes, but Mal forced Simon back to the bed with firm kisses over his crotch.

"I told you to rest," Mal teased as his nose traced the outline of Simon's erection, the pull of the fabric spreading pressure over the entire region. He smirked as he felt Simon swelling. With feather-light fingertips grazing the fabric, he stroked the inside of one leg hip to knee, and then the other. Simon squirmed and shivered, swallowing thickly, bracing his right arm against his chest and clutching his wrist firmly with his left. Mal nuzzled and sucked Simon through the fabric until Simon gasped loudly and shuddered. Pausing to look up, Mal was enraptured by the sight of Simon tense with desire, his eyes pressed shut, his left hand gripping his right so tightly that his skin bruised.

"Open your eyes," Mal whispered gently and he worked Simon's fingers loose with plaintive touches. Simon let go of the breath he'd been holding and panted heavily as his fingers loosened and laced with Mal's. Using their joint hands, Mal caressed Simon's cheek and Simon gazed at him with dusky, lust-filled eyes.

"Please don't stop."

Deciding that he'd teased enough, Mal went straight to removing Simon's pants, aroused by the sight of him already hard and wanting.

"Shirt too?"

Simon phrased it as a question, making it clear that Mal still had the lead, but there was so much hope in his voice that Mal couldn't help but oblige. Gingerly, they removed the shirt and Mal kissed from Simon's wrist to elbow, setting his injured arm gently on the bed in a more open position.

"Okay to leave this here?" he checked and Simon nodded.

Grinning greedily, Mal licked his lips and attacked Simon's body, giving the newly exposed nipples the attention they deserved. He laved in circles, drawing each one to attention then painted a line with his tongue at the indentation of every rib from sternum to side. Simon squirmed under tickles of laughter and Mal captured Simon's lips with his mouth, grinding groin to groin with Simon. Part of him wanted to suck Simon off, but the throb of Simon's cock against his demanded they come off together.

Once the first contact was made, Simon arched his hips, desperate to maintain it. Mal's original plans for slowly plundering Simon's body with his tongue leaked out of his own cock with the pre-cum, moistening the front of his pants. Letting his weight fall heavily on Simon, their bodies took over, thrusting together in frantic rhythm. Simon's tongue fell into rhythm, massaging against Mal's, subtly tweaking the pace until their hips rocked evenly like waves of the ocean. Mal's hands were everywhere and nowhere, touching Simon's face, his hair, his arms, his body. Finally they fell over Simon's own hands and their fingers laced together, further tempering the rhythm of their love making. Or perhaps heightening the sensations. The world narrowed down to the friction of the fabric between their throbbing erections, and the vibrations of need ringing right through their skin. Simon came first, his body stilling, any sounds swallowed in the endless kiss he shared with Mal. He panted and trembled, but Mal refused to release him from the kiss, until Mal came too and had not the air to continue. As Mal cried out his release, Simon grabbed his face with both hands and crushed their lips together, forcing the cry into his mouth. Wrapping arms and legs around Mal, he pressed their bodies together, keeping up friction until Mal thought he'd been milked dry. Then Simon whispered in Mal's ear the dirtiest words he'd ever heard and thrust his tongue in after, bringing a final almost painful spurt of cum.

Now Mal was trembling and Simon nibbled devilishly on his lower lip, arms and legs wrapped possessively around his lover. It took a few minutes before Mal had the sense to kiss back, and he only did it as a defensive strategy to keep Simon's tongue from other mischief.

"Sweet victory," Simon murmured, hugging Mal tighter. "I am my own."

Mal blinked slowly, trying to see through the aftershocks of orgasm and recall how long ago he'd collapsed on Simon. Simon didn't seem too concerned by the weight, though. In fact, he reveled in it.

"How's the arm?"

"Oh, I need a painkiller before the next round," Simon assured breathlessly, more excited than pained. "Because there's gotta be a next round, more glorious than the last. And you've got to get these pants off, because they're wet and making me cold."

Mal covered Simon's mouth with a kiss before it could run off, but Simon pushed him back, swatting at the soaked pants, trying to keep them off his skin. With a grin, Mal pulled back and stripped slowly, making a happy show of it, then used the dry part of one of the pant legs to clean Simon off as much as possible. He went to the bureau to find the painkillers Simon had brought down for himself, but Simon shook his head furiously.

"Uhn-uh. I want the strong stuff."

Mal paused, worried that he may have been too rough, but Simon came behind him, snaking one arm around his waist, and kissing him so fine he just about melted into a puddle.

"The Infirmary," Simon instructed softly. "First cabinet on the left, second shelf, a bottle of rust-colored pills."

Mal placed a hand over Simon's, amused at the instructions, but not following them. Simon looked up expectantly and Mal looked right back.

"Please, please," Simon begged, pulling out those classic puppy eyes. "You wouldn't make me climb the ladder and walk the ship shirtless."

He blinked pathetically and Mal couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe do the second, but I'll give you a pass on the first."

Reluctantly, Mal found some dry clothes and dressed himself for his own quick run of the ship. It was midmorning, so he was bound to run across … probably everyone. But the trip would give him a chance to stop by the galley and he had one more surprise waiting there for Simon.

#

When Mal returned to their bunk, the lights were dim and Simon sat curled in his reading chair, cloaked in a blanket. It looked like he'd started tidying up and setting things for a surprise of his own, but whatever he'd been doing, he gave up half way through. The bandage that had been around his arm was now draped over the sink. When Mal hit the deck, Simon's head poked from the blanket-cocoon , then a hand poked out too, reaching for the drugs Mal had brought.

"You bust a stitch?"

"No it was wet and itchy," Simon answered, shaking out three pills and swallowing them with no water. Mal knelt by the chair and kissed Simon tenderly, then reached between the blankets to extract and examine Simon's arm. Simon hissed softly, but relaxed as Mal started massaging the muscles around the wound, kneading the tension out of Simon's arm and shoulder. Simon exhaled happily and melted against the back of the chair, watching Mal's hands move over his skin and enjoying the feel. Mal was careful not to get to close to the tender wound, and reveled in each contented sigh he drew from Simon's lips.

"You're very good at that."

"I've been shot once or twice before. I know what it's like."

Simon nodded and leaned forward against Mal's chest, giving Mal better access to his shoulder blade. Mal continued working his fingers deep into the tissue, feeling the vibration of each grunt and groan he milked from Simon. Simon's free hand wandered up Mal's shirt, kneading against his skin, and then he pulled the t-shirt off in a lopsided motion. Mal stopped long enough to shake himself free of the shirt because he didn't want to wear it anyway. When he knelt by the chair again, Simon tipped forward, pressing his lips against the line of Mal's collar bone. Mal placed one hand on the back of Simon's head to still him, then resumed his massage.

"How come you've never done this for me before?" Simon breathed dreamily.

"Never been shot have you? Least not since we got together."

Simon smiled lightly and leaned back in the chair again, taking his arm with him, leaving his hand in Mal's. Mal massaged Simon's hand, over the knuckles, between the fingers, giving attention to every fingernail and kissing lightly when he was done. The ship hummed quietly, filling the silence as much as it needed. Mal settled next to the chair, resting his chin on the lump of blanket he assumed was Simon's knee and Simon's fingers grazed lightly over his face tracing the line of his features.

"And ideas what we can do while we wait for these painkillers to kick in?" Simon asked and Mal grinned immediately.

"I got one," he answered roguishly, standing to retrieve his surprise. "And I do mean I only got one. Some feng leh doctor used all our petty cash paying for a bunch of whiskey that he never drank."

Simon ducked his head abashedly, burrowing into his blanket again and Mal retrieved the peach he'd been hiding in the back recesses of the cooler since he'd found that fruit stand on Kerry the other day. He knelt by Simon's chair again, holding out the peach with one hand, and Simon took it, laughing to himself about something or other.

"You said you never had a fresh one," Mal explained, wondering why he was even talking at all. "Turns out Kerry has a little grove. You're not supposed to take 'em off world, though."

Simon turned the peach over in his hands, running his palm across the skin, then he lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. Mal watched the exploration in delight, setting his chin on Simon's knee again, wondering if he'd be able to find Simon's toes under the blanket.

"Don't squeeze too hard," Mal warned, as Simon continued testing the fruit under his fingers. Simon looked from Mal to the peach, then he licked the peach skin with a broad sweep of his tongue and looked lustily at Mal. Using two fingers, he pulled Mal's chin closer, turned his face sideways and licked across his cheek with the same broad stroke he'd used on the peach.

"It is like peach fuzz!" he cried gleefully and they both started laughing. Mal's forehead fell against Simon's chest, and Simon hugged him close with one hand while holding the peach at eyelevel so he could continue scrutinizing it. Finally, he brought the fruit to his mouth and took the first bite. The sweet nectar splashed from his lips and he groaned with pleasure as he chewed achingly slow, enjoying every second of it. He swallowed happily, gasped for air, and licked over the exposed peach flesh

"Want some?"

Mal sat back, trying not to look too covetous of the fruit. "Nope. It's all yours. Figure since you never had one you deserve a whole one."

Simon took another slow bite, watching Mal as he did. Mal's mouth watered with want, but he forced himself to sit back and let Simon enjoy his peach. In his next bite, Simon sheered off a piece cleanly with his front teeth, then held it out to Mal. Mal shook his head.

"It's my peach, and I want to share it," Simon declared, squeezing the fruit more intently as he spoke. The sweet juice drizzled down Simon's fingers as he waited for Mal to take it. Mal swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on the temptation.

"I know you want this," Simon taunted. "More than sex, you want fresh peaches."

"That may be an overstatement," Mal choked, even if it wasn't really.

"I heard you say it," Simon teased, tracing the peach over Mal's lips. Finally Mal took Simon's wrist in his hands, and closed his mouth over the peach and Simon's fingers. The sweet fruit on his tongue nearly sent him to orgasm then and there. He chewed softly, taking his time, reveling in the flavor, then licked every last drop of nectar from Simon's finger, hand, wrist, and even chased that one drop that had gone a little higher.

Simon's legs unfolded, and he pulled Mal into his lap, letting the blanket pool at their waists. They gazed lustily at each other, alternating between bites of the peach and bites of each other.

"Got some on your face," Mal murmured, cupping Simon's chin, and sucking lightly. Simon giggled impishly and held the peach against Mal's bare chest, squeezing just enough to get a few drops of nectar on him.

"Careful! Don't waste it!" Mal cried, but Simon was already leaning forward and licking fervently at the runaway nectar.

"It's my peach and I'll eat it how I want," Simon retorted. He brushed the peach against Mal's lips, then devoured those as well. The sweetness of the peach mixed with the taste of Simon and Mal felt he was falling in love anew. Simon pulled back from the kiss and Mal nipped after him, then started nipping at the peach that Simon was waving in the air. Simon caught Mal's lips again, distracting him just long enough to get his hand in the waistband of Mal's clothes. All of the sudden, the peach was pressed against Mal's belly and the nectar dripping down.

"Best get those pants off," Simon whispered hotly in his ear. "Can't be wasting good peach juice."

Mal paused, looking at the crushed peach in Simon's fingers, one lust fighting another. Deciding the peach was a loss, he stepped off of Simon's lap and stripped out of his pants. Simon scooted out of the chair after him, falling to his knees, his mouth on Mal's cock before the pants even made it to his ankles. Mal's feet froze and he nearly tipped forward. Simon's hands rested against his hips, one still holding the peach letting the juice trickle down his thigh.

Simon curled his tongue around Mal's cock, pulling back to tease the tip then sliding forward. Every few strokes, he'd bring the peach near, run it up the side of Mal's shaft, then lick the nectar off. Mal kept one hand on Simon's shoulder to steady himself, and the other waved through the air, searching for support. Simon held up the remains of the peach and pressed it into Mal's flailing hand, squelching the juice between them.

"Bite it," Simon ordered breathily as his nectar-covered hand fondled Mal's balls, coating them as well. Mal bit into the peach, tasting both Simon and himself on it, and his knees went weak. Simon's hands were on his hips immediately, holding him up, and the remains of the peach fell to the floor, all but forgotten. Holding up his sticky fingers, Simon let Mal lap the nectar off, slowly, sensuously. Mal shivered and spread his legs wider, as Simon licked the nectar off his balls with the flat of his tongue. He held on for dear life when Simon slipped saliva-slickened fingers into his opening, then hooked them and grazed his prostate. He bit back shouts of bliss as he thrust alternately into Simon's mouth, then back against his fingers. His body tightened with mounting release, driven mad by Simon's ministrations and the sweet taste of peaches all over. He came with a deep-hearted cry loud enough for the whole ship to hear. Simon sucked him completely dry, catching him as his knees buckled. Grunting with strain, Simon hefted Mal and tipped him face down on the bed, then immediately pounced on top of him, peppering his over-sensitized skin with kisses.

"Yes, no, yes, no," Mal whimpered alternately, not sure he could take any more of Simon's tongue, but wanting it desperately. Simon forced Mal's thighs open again and raised his hips, burrowing his head under to get any of the nectar he'd missed off the front of Mal's thighs. Mal's muscles quivered with strain, but Simon didn't stay long. His fingers played delicately across Mal's trembling skin, and his tongue teased mercilessly along the crack of Mal's ass.

"Please," Mal begged. "Fuck me, Simon! Please! Now! Please."

A part of him hoped his voice wasn't loud enough to carry through the walls, but the rest of him didn't care. He'd warned Simon he would beg shameless for this, and Simon never made him beg for long… until now.

Simon dragged his body over Mal's, his hardened cock barely pressing against Mal's crack. Shakily, Mal reached for the lube, but his arms were trembling too violently to grab hold. Simon's tongue thrust into his ear and he cried out as his cock hardened anew.

"No, Simon, please," Mal begged, needing a break. Not wanting one. He gave up on words and just panted desperate and plaintive cries, hoping Simon would understand. Simon lifted Mal's hips just enough to wrap a hand around his cock and Mal whimpered, pleading for rest. At the same time, he thrust back against Simon, trying to force the encounter. Mal's hand reached for the lube again, but his vision was shaking as much as his fingers.

"I got it," Simon whispered soothingly in his ear, mercifully reaching past him for the jar. Mal's hips fell to the bed again, crushing his erection between his stomach and the mattress. He rocked back against Simon, not wanting to wait for the lube. When felt Simon's weight lift off him briefly, he sobbed, begging all the more to be touched. Then in one swift thrust, Simon was inside of him.

They waited a moment as Mal adjusted to the intrusion. He felt the bed damp underneath of him, and rubbed against it to get friction on his own cock as Simon started working inside of him. How long had it been since they'd done this front to back? It was like new all over again. Simon was hitting spots and matching angles they hadn't achieved in ages and Mal clutched the bed sheets desperately as though they contained his consciousness. He would not pass out, he told himself.

"Harder," Mal begged and Simon quickened his pace. Ever the cautious lover, Simon always started gentle and made Mal beg for more. Mal knew that if Simon ever even once truly broke Mal – saw blood – that the whole gig would probably be up for a good long while. Peaches and sex, Mal didn't care anymore!

"Harder!"

Simon stopped his rhythm and pulled Mal's hips up roughly. He slid most of the way out until only the very tip of him was in Mal. Then he slammed in so hard Mal saw stars.

"Yes!" Mal cried. "Simon, yes!"

Simon repeated the move, pounding forcefully into Mal. Mal arched and turned, reaching back for a kiss, but Simon pulled out of him quickly, flipped him over, then shoved back in. Surprised at the sudden turn and the fresh air against his cock, Mal writhed against Simon, only calming again when Simon tipped forward to kiss him. As Simon hammered in at this new angle, Mal had to fight all the harder for consciousness.

Forcing himself to breathe, Mal looked up at Simon. Their eyes met first, then their hands, and for a moment the world around him melted into that peace and contentedness that Mal shared only with Simon. His heart raced as Simon held up their joint hand, flaunting the rings on their fingers, then kissing over his knuckles. Damn talented, Simon was, all tender in his face, all steel pounding into him. Simon took their joint hands, fisting around Mal's exposed cock, developing a vigorous rhythm.

"Come," Mal whispered, and Simon threw his head back, coming forcefully inside of him. The pressure set Mal ablaze again and he came in their joint hands.

#

Mal kissed Simon slowly, reveling the fading taste of peaches for as long as it lasted. They cuddled on the only dry part of the bed they could find, wrapped around each other inside a single blanket.

"Maybe I can start callin' you 'Peaches'," Mal murmured, pressing the flat of his tongue behind Simon's ear in a wild, ticklish manner.

Simon turned sharply, leaving quick teasing kisses on Mal's lips, not giving him a chance to latch on. "If you start, Jayne will pick up on it and start too, just to rile me."

Mal grinned evilly. "That might be fun."

Simon rolled his eyes, and nestled against Mal's neck, trying to get comfortable despite the fact that they were both sticky with cum and nectar. It probably wasn't even midday, but he couldn't imagine either of them had the strength to leave their bunk without a good, solid nap. Simon was tensing like he needed more medicine, but he didn't want to move and Mal further discouraged him by massaging his arm again. Simon curled into him, sighing gently, enjoying the massage without trying to return the favor.

"I can't decide if that was a waste of a good peach or the best peach I ever had," Mal mused and Simon smiled softly against Mal's chest. He sucked Simon's fingers lightly, but the taste of nectar was long since gone from there.

"I'm leaning toward the first," Mal joked

Simon mock-pouted at him. "Well if you really feel that way, I'll get you another peach."

"Don't see how. By the time we're on Kerry again, they'll be out of season."

"I have ways," Simon assured coyly, and impish smile rising to his lips.

"What ways?"

With a nod of his head, Simon indicated a brown paper bag folded neatly over the top, sitting on the bureau. He must have set it there when he first sent Mal out to the Infirmary! Hopeful, but trying not to hope too much, Mal rolled out of their blanket and stepped gingerly to the bureau. It hurt to walk, but in a delicious, aching, well and truly fucked kind of way. Would this be like the rings all over again?

He looked back at Simon and Simon nodded encouragingly. When he opened the bag, there were five more peaches inside. Five!

"How did –?" he stammered, his jaw hanging too slack to say more.

Simon smiled sweetly, making those eyes that conveyed a thousand endearments in a single expression of love. "Suffice it to say, I still owe Jayne for that whiskey."

#


End file.
